Now one is first, that is easy to see.
But don’t forget, that two is here as well,
And it, of course, is then followed by three
The next would be four, if you could not tell.
The one that comes after would be the five.
Then six goes by with but a furtive glance.
Trumpets blow loud, to have seven arrive.
For it grants people luck in games of chance.
Eight comes along, an infinity stands.
And three time three equals nine, don’t you know?
Ten comes along with two digit demands.
The first ten down, only fifty to go.
In getting this far, I am just like most
But I will do fine, not trying to boast.
Now, we start up again with eleven.
Then, a dozen, which is what twelve is called.
Make it thirteen, it’s a baker’s heaven.
Although, when some hear it, may be appalled
Fortnight, or fourteen, at least in Britain
Fifteen and sixteen, a young girl’s delight.
Seventeen, Eighteen, to be young again.
But Nineteen and Twenty; they are alright.
Twenty-one, full of inebriation
Twenty-two, responsibility looms.
Twenty-three, the years since my creation
Twenty-four, and maturity now booms.
My, now doesn’t your youth fly by so fast?
What once was the present, is now the past.
Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven.
Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, now those are done.
Thirty is here, your twenties were heaven.
Before you know it, you are thirty-one.
Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four go.
Thirty-five, thirty-six, come up so fast.
Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, make a show.
Thirty-nine, forty, here at last.
Forty one, forty-two, what do I do?
With forty-three, forty-four, forty-five.
Forty-six, forty-seven, almost through.
Forty-eight, forty-nine, oh man alive!
Fifty and fifty-one, I’ve had enough!
This writing in sonnet is really tough.
Fifty-two here, not a moment too soon
Fifty-three too, which brings me great delight.
Fifty-four now, I feel like such a loon.
Fifty-five, why would I take on this plight?
Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight.
We are nearly done, for here’s fifty-nine.
Sixty is here, and that makes me feel great.
Because reaching the ending feels divine.
Now, some may say, but what about zero?
How can you forget our circular friend?
But fret not, for your awaited hero
Decided to show up right at the end.
We now are finished, that’s enough of that.
Zero to sixty in four sonnets flat.
Shame on The Universe 