For Kym on Her 50th Birthday - March 2010

When I figured out how old you are, I thought I’d croak!
What an opportunity, I thought, to make a big old joke!
But then I thought: it’s serious, I shouldn’t poke
Fun at run-down decrepit wrinkled gray-haired old folk.

Nay, nay, I say, I must be nice and sweet and kind
For you’re the nicest person one will ever ever find,
You’d help out anyone who might be in a bind,
You’d give them anything, right down to your last lemon rind.

But you ARE now one half century old, and that’s a lot
Of years to have under your belt, is it not?
Count’ em: FIFTY! Oh! my heart feels like it’s been shot
To think my charming little niece is no longer a tot!

Sigh.

Ah, but that’s the way life is, we are always growing older,
And our bodies, brains and hair follicles start to wither and to moulder,
And if you need to weep, I have a soft round comfy shoulder,
And I can loan a lap robe if you feel you’re getting colder.

But don’t weep long, don’t be too sad, don’t waste your time bereft.
Enjoy yourself and make good use of the few days you have left.