Four daughters:  “What would you like for your birthday, dad?”
They are braced for the standard reply.
Dad:  “Just a little bit of tokenism, don’t go mad.”
The four heave a collective sigh.

When pressed to expound his thoughts,
regarding possible birthday treats,
the sisters are most underwhelmed,
by dad’s predictable:
“socks and sweets.”

So dad…
steps have been taken by me,
Number Two,
and I’ve strayed pretty far from your list.
I’ve not purchased a pair of
warm clothes
for your toes,
and I’ve jettisoned thoughts
to buy Liquorice Allsorts
but don’t worry,
about money,
it’s a gift
of pure thrift.
I’m giving you words instead.

Happy birthday to you,
my dear dad.
I wish you the most wonderful year.
Without writing slush,
not wanting to gush,
I’m most awfully glad that you’re here.