I don’t know if I’m old or young,My joints creak songs once never sung.Fifty sounds like quite a lot—Especially when I forget what I just thought. Hair has left, like guests too shy,What’s left behind has turned to sky—Grey, that is, and bold in flair,Decorating face and beard and hair. …
Read More »Fifty Candles, Still a Flame: By Rizal, on his 50th birthday
