Feathers Do Not A Birthday Cake Make Poem by John W. McEwers

The table is dressed in a Sunday skirt and balloons.
Helium floating plastic floating dreams of Birthday wishes.
Staring vaguely it almost appears as if the table might float away.

But it doesn't and we are left with a happy little table
Four happy little chairs pushed in neatly at each end.

Children are laughing in the distance,
Shrieking pleasure shrieks in the distance.
Having such a good time
a party time
in the distance.

I am given a present from my Aunt Genevieve.
I shake it to feel what's inside.
It's heavy and bulky and feels slightly plushy.
I can't wait to have what's inside.

It is cake time, I blow out
the candles. The candles
that cover my cake.
I blow out my candles when it happens.
My Aunt gave my a duck
And that crazy quacker ate all my cake.