The Birthday That Didn’t Need a Crowd

Two voices filled the quiet room,

soft laughter laced with worn-out cheer.

No candles, no elaborate bloom—

just time folded close, sincere.

A book wrapped tight in creased brown,

pages soft beneath my thumb.

Light filtered through shades drawn down,

ticking clocks in whispered hum.

No party’s roar, just calm’s embrace,

a birthday small as whispered prayer.

Sometimes the best kind takes its place

in solitude’s unspoken care.