Birthdays Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Birthdays

The romantic dream of old age and serenity
Is a lie. Every day is getting more difficult,
The sun burns and rain gives pain in old bones.
Words do not flow as easy as before.
Time that appeared endless is now short and
We are aware of our mortality.
Yet we carry on trying to fill a blank page with
Thoughts...it is what we do while waiting.
We know life its wonder and bitter disappointment.
Death is a strange territory we are reluctant
to go there, even if we must.