While I am reading Pamuk’s book |
There is a knock at the gate |
My friends bear a mischievous look |
One of them holds a plate |
They all gather into my room |
This dirty mess of a place |
The camera is set to zoom |
The cake set upon its base |
Post candles, wishing and bumps |
In a bold attack they partake |
I get covered in cream lumps |
With their sweet assault of cake |
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