I never got the chance to sing it for you
but the song came on on the bus home, blooms in hand.
There’s supposed to be 7
but I only had 5
because fate wasn’t good at math.
Your birthday is also my cheat day,
and I could roll like a cat in the sun
stretching out vignettes of our times together.
I could offer you a warm embrace
and so the song goes
but I never did
so I guess that’s where things went wrong.
I’d go black and blue
and so the song goes
but mine came too late, after you left.
But so what if you couldn’t see
the gifts left at the bus-stop
or the fondness that still remains?

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.