Spring Birthday Poem by Cat Tiger
Spring Birthday
Of all the things we might call ours
None are so precious as soft Spring flowers;
They push up through the cold, damp earth
and bring beauty where once was dearth.
In this land, Spring comes not til May
The last of which is ever your birthday.
And then must I celebrate with song,
Wishing you joy as the year moves along.
'Happy Birthday, Elizabeth Erin, ' I sighed,
'Somehow you must have petrified! '
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4/25/2024 9:44:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
