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 left to say:
<Beloved> have a Happy Birthday