Birthdays
by Maud Keary
When birthdays come, we always write
Our names upon the nursery door,
And carefully we mark the height,
Each standing shoeless on the floor.
How strange to think birthdays will be
When we shall never add one more
To all those marks which gradually
Are climbing up the nursery door!
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for your thoughts. All comments are moderated. Comment spam is not published here ever. Have a good day!
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.