Birthday Cakes
It is singular and quite odd, How we form habits unaware. Some of which we duly applaud If with others the good we share.
When each birthday I recognized, With a delicious birthday cake— I never fully realized How many cakes I had to bake.
My husband’s mother kept the date Of his birth, and made him a cake. This custom, thus to celebrate I decided never to break.
And so for very many years I baked him a large raisin cake, Fond retrospection somewhat cheers, Yet it brings a pang of heartache.
Father was called to realms above, The sons have married, but I know Birthday cakes that were baked with love, On memory’s page oft will glow.
These cakes with fond recollection, For each birthday during the year With various decoration, Furnished six days of joy most dear.
One ornamented with a kewpie, Another with a bisque giraffe. I never used anything droopy, For I enjoyed hearing folks laugh.
One edged with pennies I recall, Firecrackers for July birthday. The strawberry wheel, rivaled all For the birthday that came in May.
I just wish that I might retrace The many unique birthday cakes, See the bright eyes, of each one’s face Glowing with joy, free from heartaches.