In celebration of another birthday, a poem I wrote about getting older.

TIME Is Not Your Friend

TIME.

I don’t trust him.

Time walks up to you, introduces himself, and pretends to be your friend.

But watch out.

TIME plays nice with you when you first met him.

Talks to the tween you, who can’t wait to grow up.

Encourages the teen you to take chances and not be afraid.

TIME walks the halls with the college you, nudging you towards grown-up decisions that you thought you had more time to make.

TIME is there with you, finding your way through your first career job; your first promotion; your first “it’s time to leave for something else.”

TIME is there, circling around you, as you stumble through your relationships, and grow your friendships.

But TIME likes to play games.

Pretends to really care.

Acts like he’s going to always be around.

Before you know it, one night you’re asking yourself “where did the day go?”

One Saturday morning, you can hardly remember what you accomplished that week.

One day, you’re flipping over the calendar, wondering what happened to another month.

Then, there’s another birthday.

Another New Year’s Eve celebrating the end of another year!

Meanwhile, TIME has found a seat over in the corner, legs crossed, with a silly grin on his face as another decade into your life has passed.

TIME turns the tables on you.

Points out the grays in your hair; the lines on your face; the aches in your back every time you get out of bed.

And when you’ve finally had enough of his wishy-washy ways, and dare to challenge him about life, he bends down, still smirking, and whispers to you “It’s better than the alternative.”