BIRTHDAYS | a poem

I turned 28 this summer. This is how my 28 birthdays compare.

Photo by Niklas Tidbury on Unsplash

August 3rd, 2024

BIRTHDAYS

Birthdays used to be

my ten best friends from school,

water fights in the back garden

and enough cake to go round.

In High School,

less sure of my friends, 

I canoed with the old ones

and kept my siblings close.

Then they were abroad,

under European skies,

Medjugorje, Krakow, Spanish Leon,

chasing God on pilgrim trails.

And after the year of no parties,

I ripped open unrestricted London flat

hoping disparate friends would meet there

and come to love each other as I love them.

Now I just about remember

to book a table for ten at the Persian

and see who can make it

to an upper room for mixed grills

before I train home to Wales

to honour family traditions

like opening presents in bed

and hearing Dad go operatic.

We sink West Wing episodes into the night

over Scotch, coffee and pistachios

before I hug Dad goodnight in the kitchen

and receive the glint in his eye.