There will be candles melting for you to see
there will be faces to greet, faces to meet and a couple
of odd days that do not match the amount of awkward
smiles in your head, the amount of pleasant spirit in
your lungs. There will be words to be said and others
to be redrafted for this is not poetry that is written here
but words dumped on words. You know you will grow
sooner or later, rather sooner than later since you know
how change can become as easy as clothes worn
each day. How memory works like a fast December
transitioning into a newer year, fresh for a month before
rotting again into old patterns; sleep, wake, work, live
this is you, my child all grown for the exchange of breath
the exchange of a day into another, this is a process
of your growth. Close your eyes, wish for nothing and no one
but your own skin to keep you covered. Blow the candles while
everyone wishes you a happy birthday and you to yourself:
A happier year, or a vow of one.
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