Anxious sweat is chocking me
it's her birthday you see
to carry something so light and
yet feel like concrete
a bouquet of daisies, pretty, must be held right as it might make the difference or risk dropping, eaten by things around my feet and
grasshoppers grab as tasty treats.

the safety to feel at home is inside a loved one's stare
and to be the joker is a price gladly paid to see laughter
in kaleidoscope eyes, mesmerised
to smell the fresh laundry on you.

I would struggle to ask for more of all things
bound in our shared nocturnal time.
My chest is open, but I am too easy to persuade
with questions that snap me back from your gaze.

let's not be realists my love
and accept this sentiment where we can both be lost in thoughts of each other.

your eyes change from life giving trinkets
to shades of underwater
my heart snaps violins
until you utter one word
no longer staring at xanthic shades on a dress,

yes..

happy birthday Love, let's cut the cake and count our years from zero