Watched you from afar as you sat upon a bed
it was cold November you’d been struck in your head.
A simple little play with an essential theme
in which you were attacked for living Rainbow Dream.
Early in my learning, though it was late in life,
paid little attention to the vi’lence and strife
visited on L, G the B, T and the Q
captured my attention and soon I played with you.
I was hateful father and you my homo son
disdain that dad felt for you made me want to run;
run to you as Bryant with Keith’s arms open wide,
but I checked my tear drops and kept feelings inside.
Blessed I was to meet you and soon took on the role
of friend who was fatherly, fate that’s rather drool.
Used to worry bout you and some risks that you’d take,
I sighed in relief when you took Josh as your mate.
You were Green to my Plum, we played Indecently:
Been nearly four years since your smiling face I’ve seen.
In the intervening time I’ve aged quite a bit
but you, like friend Dorian, haven’t aged a whit.
Happy birthday, Bryant! I hope that you are well
and that my silly rhyming works like muscatel.
Some inebriation’s a thing we can all use;
hope on your birthday not reduced to self-abuse.