I had a birthday.
They shouted.
They chanted my name,
brought down houses,
scattered little pieces of colored paper,
wrote me tributes,
made me cakes,
made me smiles.
And then they sang to me.
But then they weren't singing.
No more smiles were being made,
no more cakes,
no more words or colored paper.
The houses stood straight;
no shouting brought them down.
No chanting reached my ears.
Everyone was sleeping...
and I was sitting.
I was sitting and being 27
for the first time--
the stillness finally confirming it.
But "the tree was happy"
and so was the aging boy.
He was sitting and he was happy.
He had been given a birthday.
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4 comments:
Joseph, I'm sorry I missed your birthday! I would make you a cake if you were here to eat it. Instead, I'll think sweet thoughts in your direction. :-)
Happy birthday, Joe!
27 isn't old enough to be so clever.....Happy Birthday Joseph
Joe...I loved every line...especially when you brought the tree into the story. 27 - who knew we were going keep aging? :) I guess we did...but still...
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