On the night before 30 and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring but my keyboard and mouse.
Zorro and Janaki were asleep in my bed, a dog’s tail in the place where I would soon lay my head.
My mother on the sleeper-sofa and roommates in their room while I thought of my twenties, my future and doom.
Then atop my head, there arose such a clatter, I ran to the mirror to see what was the matter.
My hair was falling out, the rest turning gray.
To ensure I looked old, like a grown-up, for my birthday.
Its the end of my youth, my twenties departing, now insert some cliche about remaining young at heart, as my adulthood is starting.