I heard from a little birdie that you are turning thirty.
Beautiful. Thoughtful. Kind. Extremely cherished. A treasured find.
One, two, three. Easy to see. Strong and rooted like a tree.
Four, five, six, seven, eight. Your worth too high to valuate.
Nine and ten, remember when? You dreamed ahead and here you are.
Eleven, twelve, and all the teens. Here you stand, a shining star.
I heard from a little birdie that you are turning thirty.
Talented. Funny. Bright. Beyond description and what I can write.
Twenty-one, two, three, and four. A grounded girl that can fly and soar.
Twenty-five, six, seven, eight, nine. Warm and caring by design.
You are adored. You are prized. You are loved. You are held dear.
Happy Birthday, Birthday Girl! The world is blessed to have you here.
-Lisa Murphy Taylor, © 2024
www.poemeopathy.com
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