To the day before another day
a special day
Where two people met for the first time
Where bonds were formed like muscles
and piercing cries echoed empty hallways.
Pale blue pant sets worn over street clothes
Protection of what’s to come.
She swears she won’t know what to do with it now
But she’ll figure it out with time.
By 21 she’s cried for 21 years on the same day
Because after today she can’t go back
and teach whats already been taught.
Candles flicker in a black room
and people smile,but her.
She knows that her baby has grown
and wont need her,but forever she will be there
Tomorrow is my Birthday, and every year I cry the night before. It’s a personal tradition I guess. I hate getting old.