Poem: Birthday

Birthday

It had been a fine day,
quiet, too.  That was enough.
Melissa and I went out,
had lunch together.
She gave me my gift,
a kintsuge set
so I mag restore
broken things
and honor the breaking.
All that was good, was enough.

But it was the ending.
Dinner, with my mother
and my brother.  My
birthday dinner,
with my family,
but even in the car,
sitting in the back with Melissa,
they chatted together,
spoke of things between them,
did not even consider
our inclusion.  It was not
all the same.  It was not that,
not exactly that, 
but I always questioned
if they think of me
as one of the family.

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