A Northumberland Lass

by E E Murray

I
2019

​The table’s set, the guests are yet
To turn up at her door.
Her muddled mind is in a fret
Mulling what lies in store.

Now, the doorbell rings throughout
The kitchen and the hall.
‘Happy birthday!’ is the shout
From friend, from foe, from all.
 
Look left, look right, their eyes are bright,
Like sunshine on the earth.
For it’s eleven years tonight
Since her momentous birth.
 
From side to side the candles burn,
Her friends have seen them plain.
From east to west the years turn;
She’ll not see ten again.
 
Now when the flames they saw are blown,
‘Make a wish!’ they’ll yell.
And she will wish, but wish alone,
A wish she’ll never tell.
 
The fires that burned on candle wicks
Are now just smoky strings.
And smoke and air are intermixed
And fade like ghostly things.
 
The celebration ceases quick
As food begins to moulder.
Some are glad and some are sick
And one is one year older.

From ​Emmabella's Birthday Alphabet