Biting the Dust

February bites the dust

As every month and season must

And we’ve no choice but to adjust

As life goes flitting by.

 

On calendars we’ll turn the page

And check the mirrors, where we’ll gauge

How different we look as we age;

Reflections do not lie.

 

Yet March is waiting ‘round the bend.

On its arrival, we’ll extend

A lukewarm welcome to pretend

Misgivings don’t apply.

 

Before we know it, one more year

Will gobble days and disappear,

But hopefully, we’ll persevere,

With rhymes yet to supply.