A purposely candless cake

a spitless treat

A room full of crescent moon lips

a mending family

A separate candle and a silver matchbook

a gateway to a new year

Three singing voices

a rather familiar tune

Her echo, a smile

gratitude, I presume

A single present, all she required

those Chuck-Taylors strapped around her feet

Extravagance, not an issue

each birthday, it’s own special bead