Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA
In Passion's fertile garden spot a special flower grows
That we have come to know and love as our wild Irish Rose
And, though you'd never know it by the way her poems flow
The gal is only days away from reaching big Five Oh!
They say a rose is just a flower - a plant that grows and dies
But our sweet Rose keeps getting better right before our eyes.
Four decades have now come and gone...the fifth is drawing near
And still our Rose keeps blossoming all twelve months of the year.
Perhaps she has been fertilized with regularity.
Her petals are still sharp and bright as anyone can see.
Perhaps it is her Irish roots that help...and that's no blarney
That keeps her stem so well-preserved and feeling rather thorny.
Whatever, Rose, here's your salute from your friends in this place.
We thank the Irish winds that blow for sending us your grace.
May leprechauns bring pots of gold and one huge four-leaf clover
I wish you happy birthday..well, that's it...my poem is over.