Birthdays . . . by Teri Wilson

The more candles, the bigger the cake.
It's not as easy as cartoon characters, and princess themes,
now she thinks of party halls and DJs, how she will assemble her hair and French finger tips.
She's growing now almost over night,
With the most unbelievable passion for fashion.
No more baby bibs and onesies,
It's designer jeans and vintage tees.
Bedtime stories have been replaced with America's Top Model and Grey's Anatomy, but she's still moody without her nightly routine.
She's gone from warm milk to soft jazz for comfort, what a lady she has become.
The blooming of her womanhood is approaching without mercy, and that thought has never been as clear as today.
She still fiddles with her hair when contemplative,
Maybe at times she reminisces of her younger days, when life was simple,
Care-free.
She will be graduating soon, a master in science, and soon in life.
Twenty-five years ago I would never have imagined this day.
She has replaced her piñata for a margarita fountain, and goodie bags are no more.
Sleep-overs only happen by accident, and curfew no longer exists,
She's matured over her years, although I'm not surprised; she has always been little miss independent down to her first step.
Maybe soon there will be wedding bells, a Picket fence and a small one of her own, then she too will relive birthdays.

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