Happy Birthday Message to an Old Friend

[expiring_touch]

Dearheart, (what an old fashioned word!
but I like how it
rolls -
on my tongue, and what's even
more important -
it suits you.)
You
with an ice cream cone in hand on one
of the coldest days, grey and weeping
edge of a grand German river, or even
childishly
refusing to go and admire Beatles muse
work of art, the strands of light
falling
on their own tombstones.
You?
Yes you, from our first meeting in
the blaring white Budapest now disappearing
with a 5 year memory stamp on it - read, seen,
felt - and even more -
last time I saw Paris, with that sting
of hot chocolate on my mouth -
all these scraps only add to how much
I cherish you. Happy
birthday!

[ellajam]

This was a lovely morning read. Here are some notes.

Dearheart, (what an old fashioned word!
but I like how it
rolls -
on my tongue, and what's even
more important -
it suits you.) Felt the love, great opening. I thinks your breaks work beautifully, don't know that you need those hyphens
You
with an ice cream cone in hand on one nice, clear image
of the coldest days, grey and weeping not sure if dearheart or the river is weeping
edge of a grand German river, or even
childishly
refusing to go and admire Beatles muse a little wordy, just name the muse?
work of art, the strands of light
falling
on their own tombstones.
You?
Yes you, from our first meeting in
the blaring white Budapest now disappearing
with a 5 year memory stamp on it - read, seen, not sure you need read...more
felt - and even more -
last time I saw Paris, with that sting
of hot chocolate on my mouth -
all these scraps only add to how much
I cherish you. Happy
birthday!

Thanks for the read, what a great happy birthday poem to receive. Good morning.

[YazH]

Dearheart, (what an old fashioned word!
but I like how it
rolls -
on my tongue, and what's even
more important -
it suits you.)
You
with an ice cream cone in hand on one
of the coldest days, grey and weeping
edge of a grand German river, or even
childishly
refusing to go and admire Beatles muse
work of art, the strands of light
falling
on their own tombstones.
You?
Yes you, from our first meeting in
the blaring white Budapest now disappearing
with a 5 year memory stamp on it - read, seen,
felt - and even more -
last time I saw Paris, with that sting
of hot chocolate on my mouth -
all these scraps only add to how much
I cherish you. Happy
birthday!

This poem is so sweet! Just that use of "Dearheart", I felt like these were family members, lovers, or something like.
I loved how you broke up your lines. The impact is solid.

The hyphens in the first few lines were fine but I thought unnecessary. I felt a little rushed when reading the hyphens there.
I wish there was more criticism for me to write, but I'm sure that suits you just fine