Pure, genuine, no other word for it-
Powerful and all-consuming joy.
When eyes were wondrously wide and smiles idly innocent,
Just thinking about it brought delightful ideas,
Sleep was lost the night before,
Thoughts churning in your head, looking for a place to reside,
Nothing could contain the nerves.
Every year was the best one;
Every year was better than the last.
It was a bit duller, lackluster.
Little by little,
Less exciting, more habitual.
It was nice, just not as nice as you remember,
The gifts less so.
It was the same, it had to be,
But very much different.
Celebration became just another task,
Balloons became phony smiles,
Gifts became tired eyes,
Candles grew more and more so,
People became less.
Now, thoughts wander back to how it was;
How it used to be before everything changed,
Sad- yes, but nothing stays the same,
Not even your birthday.