For seventeen years I celebrated this day,
the day of my birth in December not May.
I went for a birth certificate to join the navy,
but was told "I'm sorry son, you do not exist".
Everything stopped as his words seemed a ploy,
I've always thought I was a lost millionaire's boy.
Exchanged at birth, to be born into abject poverty,
Instead of living a life of daily excessive luxury.
All I could now hear was that old wall clock,
as its hands went around with a tick and a tock.
Back to the land of the living, returning with a bump,
Your birthdays on the fifteenth you silly great lump.
When I finally got home and told mum this story,
she said sorry son,I have not covered my self in glory.
Each year on this day these hours now remind me,
I wanted the millionaire to come back and find me.
A True Story....
Another weird thing is 13 has always been lucky for me..
-
Author:
P.H.Rose (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 13th, 2016 03:28
- Comment from author about the poem: I have two birthday, one on The 13th and the real one On the 15th...
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments4
What a wonderful poem. Interesting story!
Thank you chrissy, there have been
People in my past that don't believe
Me, but honestly it is very true.
You could say my life had a fair few
Twists and turns....
Unbelievable! Bummer! Great poem, though...:)
And unfortunately very true..
That was exactly what the
Man behind the desk said.
You don't exist ......39 years
Later I'm still here....ha ha
Thanks WBL..
Very welcome. What a story!
Awesome write, very much enjoyed reading it
Thank you so much
Tony. And a true story
Welcome
Nicely done. Very interesting story.
Thank you Augustus
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