Well, it’s My Birthday Too, Yeah

 Well, it’s My Birthday Too, Yeah

 

You say it’s your birthday?

Well, let me propose to you,

with second sight, crystal strong

looks - you’ll see two oak sealed

barrels of demi-sec champagne

launched loud and rising high

into two pitch free-falling orbits;

arcs of burnt wandering cooper,

smelting sturdy wedding bands

enough, they to hold our aching

curved staves in place, my lover,

why not? Let’s chase each other

in opposable looping co-orbitals

tumble headlong in forward rolls

both took, over dish shaped discs

hounding love’s eternal horizons,

a sun that’d be forever setting

on untested wine, out of reach,

as we’re busy never forgetting.

Except I now must remind you,

many days have cascaded past,

since each breathed those warm

farewells and your card was lost

in the last post; bathed in wakes

of brief burning comets’ tails;

a light only enough to glimpse

through blink wish-washed eyes

some hope in a cosmos of sighs.

Here’s to us and to our surprise

dearest, if orbits collide or decay,

we may yet catch the nearest way,

and you’ll see me raise a toast,

to one that I still love the most,

I know not when, I know not where

but, it’s my birthday too, yeah.