An auspicious day awakes;
It’s my dear sister’s birthday,
Whose worthy ways exist to make mine
Better and who still insists that cards must be sent
And that the pleasantness of presents remains,
And whose day officially announces
The arrival of Christmas.
I still remember her 21st
Celebration back in ’82 when, as a
Youth, and in love for the first time, I drank the
Juice of Eve’s fruit and broke sobriety’s heart, and
Age, which towers over all, carried me
Home to my parents and handed
Them back a man.
The seasonal tree will go up
Today and, as in the previous few years,
It’s the one I delicately carried to the spare room
On the 6th of January; it will be unrobed and guided
Down the stairs so as not to dislodge
The baubles that my dear father
Placed there before he left.
And Jayne feels this loss more
From the distance she is and though
The tenderness of her address is never
Mentioned it’s always there whenever we share
This date apart, and half my heart goes
To her in the post with a couple
Of hopeful scratch cards.
For Jayne Kellett.