I buy three cards
For her birthday
Because one card just won’t do,
The clerk at the store
Asking why I needed so many
How many people do I know
Born all on the same day
Puzzled when I say
They are all for one person
One funny, one tender, a third in-between
As if she is Goldilocks
With three bowls of portage from which to sip,
While I ponder
How to send them
Knowing she won’t want
Them coming from me
Do I travel to some distant place
To post mark to leave
Her pleased that some stranger
Somewhere distant thought so much of her
As to be so kind as to mail all three,
Three messages like three wisemen
Bearing gifts for the anointed one,
One funny, one tender, one in-between
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