March is the month in which my daughter was born. Isn’t that nice of God to include a birthday in the same month in which there was a death?
She’s turning 13 this year. But when she was approaching her 10th birthday, she looked through the calendar one morning at breakfast and announced, “Only 70 days ’til my birthday eve!”
If you can’t write poem about that, then you just aren’t trying.
Only 70 days ‘til my birthday eve
Yes, I’ve counted it – 70 days.
That’s only two turns of the calendar
‘til my parents erupt in praise.
Only 70 days ‘til I get my first card
From my grandma in Timbuktu
She always sends money and writes,
“Dear Honey, I wish I could be with you.”
Only 70 days ‘til I open my gifts
Arranged in a birthday tree.
Every aunt, every uncle, even Great Grandpa Norman
Will bring a present for me.
Only 70 days ‘til my party starts
With cake and candles and song
Oh my friends will sing, and I will be Queen –
The Birthday Queen – all day long
After 70 days, my birthday will pass
And I, avoiding sleep,
Will count the days on my calendar
Till my next birthday eve.