To whom and what I should render,
Love it, not yet looking for new calendar,
But I loved more the previous ones,
Cute and pretty are their young ones,
Wish I could hang on the decaying wall,
The seventy two calendars I had, all,
To cover the cracks of my old wall,
I need all of them whether large or small,
Replacing a calendar makes me sad,
Return my lost calendars I shall be glad,
I don’t know if I am really ascending,
Or I am more and more descending,
Helpless before the time and its writ
I’ll have to surrender and replace it.
Who knows it may the last greenery
Or I shall have once more a scenery.
(A post of my friend (at Facebook) Maria Strong Abella made me thoughtful to write this poem)