Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
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My daughter brings light to the day, then moves all the candles away; she says, “Keep the cake,
Eight balloons lean on the ceiling. Eight strawberries guard the cake. Eight friends arrive too loudly.
Between the apple and the sandwich I fold a yellow square: Happy birthday.
Another candle, another year you made your own. I will not ask you to stay little.
You light your own candles now, choose the restaurant, bring wine to our table.
I cannot set your cake down or straighten the candle leaning toward the window.
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