Mona, the benevolent Overlord of poetry Friday, tells us the word of the day is "birthday." Make it so.
three guttering candles tilt drunkenly on the uncut cake
torn wrapping paper swirls like autumn leaves
balloons float as ghosts
the birthday girl runs in circles
around the toy-strewn room
laughing wildly
her crying little sister the center of her orbit
mom's orbit is straying these days
from its well established paths
as she retreats to the bathroom
and locks the door
for the rest of the afternoon
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By Jeff Wood · Launched 4 years ago
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