Tomorrow is my birthday
62 candles crowd a cupcake
White
Snow
Covers fences and grounds
It is cold and
Vanilla icing is my last vice
By supper
It is dark
I read my Kindle by the fire
Vera Pearl plays make believe alone
She piles pillows and fake fur throws
To make beds
For herself and her dolls
She Swan Lake Dances and Sings
“Everyone, everyone is going to die
Ghosts fly high in the sky”
The dollies’ glass eyes Stare up Arranged in a solemn row
Vera Pearl is my granddaughter
She is three
And already hears the Muse
I see it in her eyes
Like mine, they are green with specks of spooky stories and gold
We toast Happy Birthday
With two blue glass angels
And pretend to drink the light clean |