Today should have been your day

 Today should have been your day.

I’d have baked something special —
your favorite treat,
sung off-key while you wagged and twirled,
tail sweeping the air like joy itself.

Instead, the house is quiet.
No paws tapping,
no soft nudge asking, “Is it for me?”
Just a candle,
and your photo glowing in its light.

Still, I whispered “happy birthday”
to the sky.
Because love doesn’t forget the dates —
the beginnings, the moments,
the reasons our hearts learned what forever means.

I like to think heaven knows it’s your special day.
That the stars themselves pause for a moment,
and the angels hum your name.
Maybe you’re up there now —
running free,
chasing light,
wrapped in all the love I still send you.

If time bends the way love does,
then you must feel it —
every whisper, every tear,
every birthday wish carried on the wind.

So, happy heavenly birthday, my sweet one.
No candles to blow out,
no gifts to unwrap —
just eternal love,
burning brighter than ever.