life, philosophy, poetry, thoughts, writing



When the lady asked him is age
he held up three fingers.
When he grew a little older
and started school,
he spoke in halves.
I’m six and a half.
I’m seven and a half.
I’m eight and a half.

Birthday cakes.
Party favors.
Pointy, colorful hats.
Everyone gathered around
kids and adults alike
as he made his wish.

Several years later,
he celebrates at
his favorite hang out
with all of his buddies,
maybe even a few girls.

More time goes by,
and he celebrates
with his parents and wife.

A few more years pass,
and his children
gather around the table
to sing him
the Happy Birthday Song.
He lets them

blow out the candles.


his siblings no longer remember.
His parents are no longer here.
Grown children
only have time enough
for a quick call.
His wife surprises him
with a special gift.

The half-century mark
means no more halves
added to his numbers.
Cakes mean additional calories.
Don’t want to upset
the blood sugar level
or raise the cholesterol.

Gone are the days
of party favors and hats.
Too many candles
to place on top of a cake,
and no energy
to blow them out anyway.

First they meant
he was growing up,
getting bigger, stronger.
Then they meant,
party time with friends.
Soon, they are reminders
of difficulties that lie ahead,
and signs of getting weaker.

Will a time ever come,
when he will know
the true meaning
of the day he was born?
Will he ever know
his purpose?
Will he ever know

how the world lit up
when he arrived,
and how the angels rejoiced?

by Lori (L.Virelli)

11 thoughts on “Birthdays”

  1. This is a lovely poem. Makes me want to love people up even more–to appreciate the gifts they have been given. Too many people don’t seem to realize the purpose of their life is to be them in their magnificence and smallness and perfection. My opinion anyway!


    1. Well Kathy, it seems you have understood the poem just exactly the way I meant it. Thank you so much for sharing “your opinion anyway.” It means a lot to know that I can get my point across … to someone. 🙂


    1. The circle of life, my friend, but we’re all here for a reason. Thank you so much for you nice comment. I’m glad you liked it. Hey, how do you make that kind of a smiley face with the eyes bugging out? Cute.


      1. You`re welcome, my dear.

        😆 I like smileys… can you tell? 😉 The ones with the eyes bugging out? Type 8 O (eight, then a capital “O”, without the space in the middle.


  2. Birthdays … ???!! only fun when you’re young. With me born on 11.09 – it’s very difficult – to celebrate that day. Love your poem, so true .. even if I’m not really interested in what purpose I had in life. Have done my best of what I was given and what I’m.


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