To a Birthday

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Ages pass as time increases,
Leaves wither and die as children grow
The watch has shattered, and without its pieces,
The minutes continue to pass as slow.

The clouds conform, large and grey,
Sending down rain and sleet and hail
But the child has brought her umbrella today,
with the colorful cards coming in from the mail.

Water blurs words as raindrops progress,
An innocent error still equals a wrong.
The presents are nice, but I must confess;
Fifteen years old is fifteen years too long.





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