Mags at 15


My child! My love! A birthday!
15!? How can that be?
My sun. My moon. My stardust.
You are everything to me.

You are empathy and justice.
You are ukulele strings.
Fullest joy and deepest sadness,
Yes, to me you’re all those things.

Smoothest jazz and watercolors,
Punk rock songs and poetry,
Non-stop words and painful silence,
You are all those things to me.

You are tuba-bass-flute-guitar,
(But you’re tone deaf when you sing)
Polished, eloquent, and awkward,
And to me you’re everything.

You are strength and you are sweetness.
You’re my shiva and shakti.
Always both and never either,
You are everything to me.

You’re the sunshine of the summer,
And the darkness winter brings,
Changeable as wind and weather,
Yes, to me you’re all these things.

You’re the dock I tie my ship to.
You’re the ship I’ve sent to sea.
My home. My hope. My sails. My beacon.
You are everything to me.

You are blossoms, you are bird-songs.
You have roots and you have wings.
Take them with you through this next year,
Go and do. Be all the things.

Happy birthday, Mags!


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