Kevin M. Kirker
On Every March 9th
my footsteps haven't reached
you in some time
but this day is your birthday
thought i'd stop by
and every spring when i do
i carry some presents for you
and after they're opened
you still keep the boxes
cause they're special too
but trinkets can't
show you how much
i wish i saw you every day
when i can't
and still one gift remains
that old refrain
you always call your favorite
i start to play
but i haven't sung in a year
so my hands are quaking with fear
but then my eyelids shut
i envision your smile
my fingers compose
though it strains me so much
like clockwork, i return to here
where you were placed below the ground
because i still think you'll come back if i say
''please?''
and you don't answer back
but that's okay
i'll ask on every march 9th
you might someday
From Paroles Mania