Your birthday is a motorbike. It runs on wheels of sun-fire. It greets Future's road sensing goodness sowed, ready to cruise with its special load. Its engine runs on self confidence, self worth and self love. Let the other three-six-four be for family and more, but this one is for you. So open the throttle, feel the wind in your hair, to the Heavens you bring a talent-rare.

September 2026.

 

Birthday emotions are a yo-yo's muse, joy rushes forward to feel the soul scuttle blues. Backwards they tumble as past griefs are rumbled, and again the merriment of the past advances fast. Mixed emotions. Mixed memories. Mixed future hopes. As cake batter in the blender it sugar-whips to a soft hope. The cake is the cake, no longer sugar and flour. It has shape and form, frosting and sprinkles. So I let my emotions morph from yo-you to cake, taking a hearty slice for old times sake. The future is unwritten and a fresh year has begun.

September 2026

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Birthday emotions unwrap the past as they look toward future gifts, sensing the present as a Rubicon.  For if the festive seasons are as a train ride, the birthday is a motorbike. As the world carries on busy, frenetic, unceasing - its your personal day to celebrate living. So soak in self-worth; soak in confidence; soak in hope and see your heavenly worth. For sacred is each day your soul has on our Earth.

September 2026.

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My birthday skidded in on roller-skates, speed attaching fun ideas to 'Rocket Anti-Wait.' It added more fuel and lit a match before dashing to the fridge for a soda can. Then to the doorway it more sprinted than led, hollering without backward glance that this day was magic enhanced.  No cake was required to give it this rush, no silvery bows on gifts or fancy stuff. The sunrise was quite enough and my birthday had begun. As the rocket flames cool blazed, my soul was amazed, merrily following on.

September 2026.

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Birthday bubbly, a massage or two, a meal out for me and for you. A day to relax, a day to reflect on the goodness we cherish. I don't need presents, only your presence. You see, my loves, you are my gold; you are my pride and joy; you are the ones my heart beats for. So come and celebrate on my special day and I will be there on yours.

November 11, 2025.

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My birthday frosting is ten miles deep, chocolate so rich banks weep. Candles a-glow, gifts wrapped with bows, more smiles than the heavens have stars. My joy just leapt straight to Mars, it strutted around that red sand, then zoomed back to lead my birthday band. That is what your cake, your homemade cake, can do for this son's soul.

December 1, 2025.

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