Calendars

Make it a December to remember, But how, should it be my surrender? 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)