Birthday Song

The weather tells me its my birthday,
if the weather says, it must be true;
the lashing rains, the grey skies,
the wet earth and the cool breeze nod in confirmation too;

The calendar tells me I turn 36,
if the calendar says it must be true,
but wasn't it only the other day I had turned 18,
Looking forward to the life I badly wanted to woo?

The mirror tells me I am growing old,
if the mirror says it must be true,
as if to prove his point further,
it shows me a handful of greys, and a few wrinkles too;

The clock tells me I better hurry up,
if the clock says it must be true;
with more than half of my life over,
I have little time left for all that I want to do;

My heart tells me relax my girl,
if the heart says it must be true;
for what does love, life, dream, and hope
with age have to do?