I grow old... I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled

Not quite measuring out my life in coffee spoons, but aging nonetheless. It's my birthday, it's true, I can't deny it, I don't deny it, but nor do I shout it from the rooftops. Not for me the cocktails and the shortcake, more party pooper than party popper, but I do celebrate, and I do mark the day, and it is momentous.

My recent trend, as you may have noticed, is to ensure that the day is mine, start it late, start it easy, and walk from the heart of my world, to its western shore. I spend time with myself; within myself, without my self... I consider, I contemplate... stock is taken, plans are reassessed. In the end, something is refreshed and recharged. Something is exposed and re-understood... as the sun sets on my day, it is seen as an acceptance of forward movement, a change, a development, a marking of time... it is seen as another hour, day, year, epoch lived... it is seen as the latest in a series of achievements. A getting through of...


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