Streamers raining down as snowflakes in deep winter.
Cake, all over my face like armour.
But I sit and ask myself, what is the cause of this ceremony?
One day, every year, no problems, no frief, or melancholy.

But the only thing that seems to change is the number.
Life goes by so quick, who'd have thought?

Every year I say the same; seems like only yesterday.

On this special occasion, that is my birthday.