This day makes another appearance without your invitation
And causes you some dismay.
You can't help regard this moment without some inclination
To show it on its way.
Any real celebration is not on your calendar of events;
With no bother or fuss.
But if you were never born then it really makes no sense —
There'd be no us.
While I ponder what it is I can give to you, thoughts drift,
As I'm sure you can design.
The way things turned out, your birth, your love, your life, are the truest gift
From your heart to mine.