I watch as it gets passed around,
Layers of tissue ripped, floating like confetti to the ground.
My hands twitch in anticipation, my insides twinge with tension,
Eagerly and greedily, I reach with glee; me Me ME!
I pause where the music has not.
‘I’m the Birthday Girl,’ I protest, ‘it’s only fair?’
A quiet word from Mum, ‘it’s nice to share.’
With a colossal sigh, I slip it to my right,
A few person’s later, squeals of delight.
As I later survey my loot, my presents,
I decide I am too young for resentment.
Next week there’s a party at Sarah’s pad,
Rumour has it there’s a light up yo-yo under wraps.