I know Seven will be good,but could we please say I’m Sixfor just a while longer?Baby girl with a stack of giftswrapped in silver and pink and daisies;it’s a rainy day but we rememberthat April showers bring May flowers,plus, she’s not really a baby anymore.No more babies in this house.It’s like a dream, this birthday day:the sun streams in, then hides again.The cat swarms in wrapping paperinspiring giggle and meow cascades.Dada hauls the dollhouse downstairs,sets it up in the middle of the kitchenso all the new flower-festooned ponies,princesses, knights, and riding-girlscan have a new home in the thick of it.Mama snaps photos, bakes a chocolate cake,leans back on a counter, sips coffeefrom her favorite chipped earthen mug.Can’t believe her good fortune, still.This is the Best Day Ever,and Dada told me that seven is lucky.So I’m ready to be Seven.
Herotomost asked the Real Toads for a piece that describes a place in detail, sandwiched with dialogue. Here's a snapshot from my today, my daughter's seventh birthday. Oh and also, poem 11 of 30 for April!