MY BIRTHDAY GIRL
The face glows a bit more, the dimples flash too often
The eyes sparkle all the time; frequently the mouth is seen to soften
There is a spring in her step, laughter in her tone
The fidgety hands reach out, a bit more, towards the phone
The sophistication is gone, the little tyke is seen to unfurl
For she is ours, once in a year, sweet little birthday girl.
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