Birthday - Poem by Morgan Michaels
As the coffee turns in the pot
as the cream rises in the can
as butter softens in the bowl
and yellows to yellow
as the wind tangles in the vane
as high above the red barn door
the sky peoples over with crows;
as hens cluck and cluck some more
and the old cock crows
as morning slouches to noon;
punching the pillow, let me just say
happy birthday, baby. It's tubuler, no?
Happy birthday, babe, many more!
Comments about Birthday by Morgan Michaels
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You