First we have no age at all. Then we’re one.
In another year we turn two, then three,
as our stumbling gets a bit steadier.
Suddenly, we are five, an entire hand
that we look at in wonder. Let’s skip
the first few grades, because when we are eight
we have begun to discover novels
on library shelves, and not long after
we’re teens. Then old enough to drink, which we
do on that first opportunity. The
hangover lasts until we’re 34,
which is not quite time for midlife crises,
though some manage. 55 is one’s prime
but, we know then we’ll soon be 89.