Family · Isaiah

Bitter Birthday Bird Ballad

The Birthday Bird is out, indeed, the Seussian creature’s dead.
Some hunter with a 50 cal just shot him in the head.
So while the wildlife wardens raise a tumult cry and hue.
We don’t have squat for birthdays, so whoopsy frickin 'do.

But while the presents all are not as grand as they could be.
And while the smell of cooking bird is just next door from me
Although I signed a clause that said “No refunds if he croaks”
I think your birthday should be fine, just hanging with your folks.

I wanted words to make you laugh, and words to shed a tear.
You’ve had a lot to handle during this past birthday year.
It hurts me when I see you cry. It hurts me when you mourn.
It hurts that all our painful loss has thus upon you worn.

These words I write, with tears and love. But comfort drawn from you.
I’ve seen you’ve grown into a girl mature and thoughtful too.
I don’t like change, I want the clock to stop ere our time’s told.
But then again, who knows what fun we might have growing old.

And though the tears may flow so free, it makes good days worthwhile.
Despite the days of sobs and tears, it heals to see you smile.
So here’s to Anna Kickin’ dear, whom I have watched grow up.
I pray for you more happy years, to overflow your cup.