Sometimes life can
seem so hard
And then you get a
birthday card.
The next year starts,
the last one ends,
Marked by a verse with
note from friends.
Since it seems so often
this transition
Sets off howling and
derision,
perhaps next year
instead of verse
we’ll send you something
even worse:
A birthday bomb, a
birthday fart,
A special birthday
broken heart,
Or plague, or flood, or
drought near endless,
To remind you: you
remain not friendless.
So then again, maybe
not,
Maybe just stick with
what we’ve got.
It’s trite, it’s
tacky, kitsch and bland,
But safe: it won’t
blow off your hand
Or leave a smell or
start to smoulder,
Instead just leave you
one year older.
This birthday poem’s
gone on too long
To fit the card.
Perhaps a song
Would have worked out
better.
Or an email, tweet or
letter.
Enough! There’s just
one thing to say:
<Beloved> have a
Happy Day
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