We had a little birthday spree.

For my boy , he was just 23

At the gravesite, Boo and me.

The only place we could be.

To celebrate Billy for his day.

Really not the perfect way.

But we had no choice or say.

Cept glasses, wine and a pray.

Time it passed in awkward pause.

Passing wind was the only noise.

Short sentences about the cause.

Such pain impossible to ignore.

First mozzie spotted in our midst.

So Not included in our invite list.

Buzzing with wings that hissed.

One won’t hurt, you get the gist.

My Mum firmly said she would not stay.

Cause his mates would not be far away.

She had done quite enough for one day.

And in any case we had forgot the spray.

His Mum turned up, a triffle late.

Just on dark she arrived at the gate.

Fresh wine I poured for our mate.

Our shared grief in lifes cruel fate.

Just half a glass had passed our lips.

Mozzie mates had planned their trips.

To share the party with pointy nips.

Latched onto flesh with mighty grips.

Around the head and right in the face.

Through the clothes all over the place.

So to the car we ran at a frantic pace.

There was no bravado left in our space.

All the while totally in the know.

I felt Billy grinning from just below.

You never would have run years ago.

You are getting soft, just goes to show.