Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
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My daughter said cake was too plain, so ordered both tart and champagne; when asked which to share,
Another candle, another year you made your own. I will not ask you to stay little.
Eight balloons lean on the ceiling. Eight strawberries guard the cake. Eight friends arrive too loudly.
I cannot set your cake down or straighten the candle leaning toward the window.
Between the apple and the sandwich I fold a yellow square: Happy birthday.
You light your own candles now, choose the restaurant, bring wine to our table.
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