Belated

A birthday card that gets there late,
A day or two beyond the date,
Becomes a nice way to remind
The celebrant that, though inclined
To feel that special day is done,
It isn’t quite, to everyone.

And so it lingers, like a scent
That keeps the air quite redolent
With memories of the time just past
Before they dissipate at last.

Of course, although it feels so good
To open cards sent when they should,
The late ones, we can thus surmise,
Provide a blessing in disguise.