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Dec 2018
Twenty two years ago
     December twenty second,
two thousand eighteen
"star student" born
this papa (and most
     likely thee birth mother)
     initially felt ecstatic,
dramatic (yes frenetic),

and careworn
as freshly minted parents,
     but gifted with a daughter,
     whose existence far
more precious
than any Earthborn
rare widgets, gewgaws,
gems, et cetera, despite

     evoking unsolicited,
unpleasant, and
unmanageable forlorn
communication "dirt poor"
     living (at least ten years
    of wretchedness at 1148
Greentree Lane) unable
to toot our horn,

cuz unbearable, undesirable,
     unforgettable, et cetera,
     and manifold challenged,
when beloved Shana
Punim evinced inborn
developmental delay,
     (which severe electric
     cool aid acid test

     patience of this father),
     much more difficult
than playing krummhorn,
now after tendering the trials

     and tribulations, an
     amalgamation of
     poignant affects,
     whereat your
     permanent presence...
(must never NOT precede mine),
cuz..., I would definitely mourn,
your absence, thus felt the timely

     opportunity to dash off
     a birthday poem to you
     in tandem with sharing,
     (while comfortably numb
and figuratively licking war
torn psychological wombs) - torn
and ripped, queued,
peppered natty psyche

pockmarked with scorn
from self, (and those lives,
this dada immediately
impacted) particularly
your person roar'n
with cumulative anger toward
     this insightful fellow,
(who claims to know

what thee feel toward me),
especially when ****
hours of valuable
     time, now caught
(say, eh...approximately, fraught
upon the half life of rare Earth
element Eden), not
just strictly naught

heard thru the grapevine,
     but forcing Math (hew)
     analysis, via meditation, poetry
     writing therapy, et cetera.
-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -    
Hence...I apologize,
asper unasked for pain wrought
thee, sans being unemployed,
demeaning "mother Abby,"
bumbling, horrid house

keeper (Hagrid himself,
would turn down invitation),
plus Facebook fiasco,
imbroglio, and loco
motive - complicit in behavior
-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -
comparable to *******,
yet please let me conclude
by admitting total lack
of wherewithal.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DAUGHTER!
Written by
matthew scott harris  64/M/schwenksville, penna
(64/M/schwenksville, penna)   
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