Marilyn's Birthday
It’s Marilyn’s birthday; in previous years
We’d go out to dinner, at least.
We’d each have an entrée and share a dessert,
The closest, for us, to a feast.
We didn’t trade gifts, but on “big ones” we would –
Maybe bracelets, ceramics, or bags
And we’d talk of the turns of our different lives –
The triumphs and also the snags.
But Marilyn’s gone now; just four years ago
I saw her on that hospital bed,
With her arms wrapped around a stuffed monkey, a pose
She would never have made if not dead.
I miss my dear friend and am sad she’s not here.
For her birthday, I’ll offer a toast
To the memory of all the time that we had
Before, sadly, she gave up the ghost.
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