Before my day started, I went to a coffee shop and treated myself to a rare decaf latte.
“Name?” The barista asked. “April,” I said.
“It’s your month!” he said as he wrote my name on the cup in black marker.
“Actually, it’s my birthday,” I said sheepishly.
“Then let this coffee be on me,” he said.
I don’t know if that was company policy, but it started my whole day rolling. Whatever I wanted today? Poof-done!
I ran out of steam (or steamed milk?) at the end of this poem. But hey, it was my birthday. It’s okay.
YOUR DAY
By April Halprin Wayland
On your birthday you get to choose
your favorite soap and which shampoo,
your favorite way to wear your hair,
your favorite speckled underwear.
The thickest piece of toast and jam,
your favorite cousin Abraham,
your grandma’s softest handkerchief,
your favorite brother…(HA-as if!)
You get the best seat on the bus,
the zoo gives you their platypus.
Your favorite clouds, your favorite sky
And (when you’re still) your favorite color butterfly.
Your favorite walk to get back home
Your favorite cat, her favorite comb
Your favorite time to nap…and wake.
And then?
Your friend makes you your favorite cake!
© 2010 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved
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