Found some steps beneath a midday moon,
Where the ice grows long in daylight’s dark,
Sometimes its hard to tell what escapes,
Beyond the eys as they listen for bells of feet.
Running as the wheels turn around at the gate,
The latch, the clasp, the lock swings shut,
A voice calls out to conversation’s start,
Old friends greet one another on the grass,
An assembly of gifts, a one year old so bright,
To backyard fun raised with plastic cups,
A tower full of cupcakes, warm food, and company,
All waiting the strawberries, sponge, and cream,
A party for the first, for four seasons is her age,
A girl special to her family, a girl special to her mum and dad.