Twice Sweet Sixteen

My glass – presenting the countenance of thirty-two summers

Every scar, wrinkle and line narrating a tale that pleasantly delivers

Me from the churlish coils of the past

To a beauteous repertoire of imaginations in the present.

My dial – silently ticking away without a pause ever,

Is a constant inspiration to go on with my destined endeavour

Twice sweet sixteen, with memories umpteen—

A year older and wiser, with that spark growing brighter and stronger.

My book – proceeding gently to a fresh new page

Set for another episode, now, with the vision of a sage,

And of this book countless learning will I taste

Tread the caprice of another year, with much resilience and little haste.