Fragments of a Ninth Birthday
Fragments of a red balloon
Hang limp on the rail.
Like the echoes of a birthday tune
They're now remanants of a birthday tale.
The Green Machine sets in park.
Its reverie grows dim.
Like a broken heart, silenced in the dark.
Waiting, waiting, just for him.
Gift boxes and ribbons, ripped apart,
New toys left on the floor,
Like the little boys' lonely heart,
They're now locked behind a closed door.
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Comments about this poem (Fragments of a Ninth Birthday by NeVada Baker )
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