Nine in Dog Years: riffing a prompt from imaginary garden with real toads

OK, trying something new today.  My poem below is from a prompt at the imaginary garden with real toads blog. The idea here is to use your name in some way in a poem:

Nine in Dog Years

You imagine carols as
songs of angels, mangers,
bright guiding stars, kings
of orient are bringing gifts
while shepherds watch
so tell me, where is
a connection to this Carol
born under sign of the ram?

Once I was the Carol
of Neil Sedaka’s song,
treating the boys cruel,
making them cry,
because I was truthful,
couldn’t say the lie about love.

Now, I’m still only thirty four
million minutes old, only
nine in dog years. Next birthday
I’ll make tea from the seven
ounces of boiling water heated
by all the candles on my cake.
No angels or kings invited
but maybe a few poets.

Carol A. Stephen