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
isn’t much
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…