Birthday of Quiet

A picture popped up on the screen,

a princess, rented,

plastic smiles, frosting screams.

My teeth began to ache.

I remembered then,

the small blue curl of icing

on a single cupcake, faded,

set on the chipped plate,

one plate, one spoon,

just you and me,

the only sound

the quiet clink of porcelain,

the clock hand’s slow, deliberate drag.

No banners, no grand shout.

Just the hum

of being, finally, found.

And for that day,

the world outside,

it simply forgot to bark.