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It was August, first day.
Many mouths rejoiced and pray
Over the coming of a little me.
All were happy and thankful except me
Staring at the things I could not see.
I’m happy to have hip and hurray
That left your lips to come my way.
These wishes I know are good,
But reflective today I think I should
While you feed me happy- birthday food.
Lies an hour we can’t borrow
With joy it may come or sorrow
But if today I celebrate my coming
I must ruminate my going,
For no man’s last day can be stolen.