Birthday

It is the birthday that never was,
a day to celebrate through the tears,
to celebrate
your life, your love,
your presence,
even when your presence
has passed.

About this poem

Yesterday would have been my mother’s birthday. She died early last spring. So it was a day of reflection, and joy in her presence in my life for so long. Sometimes happy. Sometimes sad.

The picture was taken just after my sisters (younger than me) were born.

Tom