Birthdays make me sad
For a number of reasons, not just one
Not a single birthday do I have
But two
Which would be the day
I entered the world
Escaped from my mother’s womb
And the day that is recorded
For all the years to come
On my passport, driver’s licence
Any document that would record
The hospital would have
My real birthday noted
Other witness is no more
Every year I get to celebrate
Not one day, but two
And I wish I had but none
My mother and I shared the same week
Three days, but generations apart
Her Farewell was celebrated
On my birthday, at least on one of them
And so birthdays make me sad
What would my new sign be?
My new sign would be
April Baby!
How would I describe those who share it?
I would describe them as
Being Alive!
I do not like to share birthdays
With Farewell Services on the same day
As a birthday of mine
And so birthdays make me sad
Poems and Petals 