Birthday Beauty

It’s possible,
that on the day in 1921
when you were born,
they mistook you for the sun.
Radiant face shining under
A black cloud of curls,
The color of your eyes
Sent the seas and skies
Into a jealous whirl.
Impossible,
you grew more lovely still,
a charming little lady who found
her gift for keys and strings
in a heart that sings.
“An angel!” they’d say
when they heard you play.
Skirts a-twirl, bewitching girl.
Impossible,
but true: an ever more
gorgeous young woman, 1942.
Turning heads with a luminous smile,
your heart was destined all the while
For the man who loves you still.
Is it possible,
that such great love can flow
from just one heart?
All your gifts, so freely given:
so many souls touched
by your devotion, driven.
Impossible,
how much you are missed,

today of all days.

Your beauty still shines from within.

Always.