Fifty years, and more than one life lived
Not everything was rainbow honey dew,
And fate has more than once turned you adrift
But you have bared your teeth, and saw it through.
Fifty years, and words became your friend
Weapon in your battles, sharpened blade,
And with them, poetess, you do transcend.
But don’t you think I’ll ever be afraid!
Fifty years, and here you come!
A wordsmith with the gift of the gab.
And though your humor is quite sharp for some,
Who could deny that you’re just fab?
I wish you words, my dear, in every hue
And have for you but four: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!