Her parents had secretly planned for it all day
Hatching a bash or a klatch or a soiree
Actually passably rad in a small way it
Actually had to be had in a small place,
Took hold of Miss Junior Algebraist
So booknosed she doesn’t know what the day is
But once she comes back to the present
The presence of presents ends the questions
She guesses the day right, everyone smiles back
They’re playing a game night and eating some lilacs
And Mom will be right back, she’s lighting the candles
Moon wonders if the guest list got kinda mishandled
A late Twi’s unexampled.
Minuette’s dancing, but she still looks
For the silhouette prancing from these hills, books
Are not something she’ll talk on with Twinkleshine
They draw straws on who tells her the thing with Twi
Cool weather and a fair bit got in her eyes
New sweater and a hair clip tossed to the side
As the cake comes out, raised voices in song
All the tears on her hidden face moisten her jaw
Twelve minutes later, candles gutter in the wind and
She’s learning now to hate the random mutters of her friends
Under bright skies sits a gloomy stolid mare
Resigned to a lifetime of moody solitaire
Forget friendship, it’s something she can 86
And as the phrase begins the sky’s blotted in a great eclipse
Fate exists, this one’s nowhere in the alphabet
Of charts and lunar data tables sorted in her almagest
Parents find words that at first were despondent
Turn mostly abstract and by turns unresponsive
Friends head home on their own but it’s all fine
Moon’s out early and it stays for a long time