Mairi Brewis

Birthday Turtle

It was going to be your birthday
I waited for the days to tick by.
Every night, when you called,
I secretly picked up my sewing
And stitched as we talked.

I was making you your present
A little beanbag patchwork turtle.
I’d chosen the shades of green,
I’d stitched all of his back.

One day, as I started to sew more patches together,
You mentioned you hated green.
The needle pricked my finger;
A bloody red stain grew on the turtle’s neck.

You like blue.
So the next day I went out again
I bought a whole new set of material
And started to sew the blue patches together.

The last few days
I had to talk to you for longer than usual
As I filled the turtle with rice,
The other, rejected, jealous,
Watching as I stitched the final side.

I wrapped him up in blue tissue paper,
Tied a small blue bow,
Wrote in a tiny blue card.

We met for lunch on your birthday,
As we parted
I shyly placed him in your hands
And said goodbye.