Birthday Present by Tony Chapman.
…and I must buy you:
a birthday present!
with a thousand different coloured evenings,
with a strange look in the eyes of the men in green:
you’re the prettiest lady they’ve ever seen
built from earth we have not dug yet,
grown from seeds we have not sown yet,
and I drop to my knees
when I hear the wind play:
the elms are in turmoil,
leafy poplars sway.
All I have to give to you
just a birthday present of words
you cannot even touch,
just a poem set in a shabby room
just a line or two read
by the white light of the moon…