On My 37th Birthday, August 31, 2011
By jwhwz •
On my thirty-seventh birthday;
In my heart, I'm a child;
Even though I'm mostly serious;
And just a little wild.
I get excited about sweet, little things;
Like baby bunnies and butterfly wings.
But, children can be as hateful as those full-grown;
One minute, loving; and the next, a heart of stone.
Anyone can be adored and hated; even a Mom;
My relationships can be quite stormy or calm.
It all depends on if you can be respected;
If so, I'll be a friend; and if not, you're rejected.
That, I'm afraid, won't change with my age;
After feeling that most of my life has been lived in a cage.
And now, I'm out; and most know I'm often enraged;
Especially, the gentleman to whom I'm engaged.
The only certainty is that I'm full of surprises;
And yet, I rarely wear disguises.
All of my moods are purely me;
I can detest the whole world; yet love a tree.
Those who accept this know me well;
And if they don't, they can stay in a cell.
But, I will always love my life;
As long as I am Jacob's common-law wife.
To be accurate, because, by now, you know I'm quite honest;
This poem was written on the thirty-first of August!