I’m your beautiful birthday girl,
all wrapped up in a bow,
waiting to be undone,
leaning against my garden wall,
waiting for a kiss that never comes,
because we live in a lockdown world,
where loneliness is the only constant,
no contact is the contract we sign,
for some faraway fantasy of eventual freedom.
I dream of you,
every time I close my eyes,
and often when they are open,
held tight in your arms,
captured by your soft kiss,
unwrapped and unravelling,
as I stand alone in the kitchen,
candles lit, only to lose their flames,
so I can exchange the warmth for a wish.
Could you wrap me up in a birthday kiss?
Soft and slow,
the way you kiss me when I’m in your car,
and we are parked outside my house,
trying to think of a reason not to part.
That’s the only gift I need.
