Birthdays rarely fall

when they should,

a day in which to celebrate

and make good

of the hopeful

cheer that might come your way

would be better served in warmer climes,

not in the frozen pastures of February,

neither ought it tumble

onto the stony, unforgiving ground

of the weekday, wantaway Blues,

where grown adults of the current age

shake their heads and say,

not on a school night, despite

not having children to care for.

I will take my birthday when it comes,

a promise of the best day of the year,

save Cup Final day or hopeful

surprise lottery win,

just don’t let it fail

to turn up.

 

Ian D. Hall 2018