Winter babies and summer birthdays

If I could describe

The resulting physical sensation

For The guilt I felt

For missing your annual celebration

Yes - The one I helped

Count for years.

It would be a cool, damp blanket

On the fire in my chest

For now I will forget

The lights of late nights, all laid to rest

The heat of the summer

Gone by mid June.

Damn, What a bummer.

Verily, soon

Will these many returns

Be the stamps of lost time

On letters made to burn.

But instead, we will find

As the embers lick our feet,

And that of crows lines

Around which our gazes meet,

We fill our hearts to content

With the contents of each letter.

We both smile and I relent,

“You only get better.”