For Willow on her 40th Birthday
from Andy, a poem just for you (a poem that could not be for another).
Dearest Willow so now you’re 40
and who’d have guessed?
It happens to the very best.
We’ve known you now for quite some years
and often on your face a smile and wonder
like that time others ticked off naughty things
and you, you listed them on your To Do. And Did.
Well we remember your lustful summer cries
as you hankered after a green man’s thighs,
and danced all night around a massive fire
like some genie unleashed from the mead.
Pass me a paintbrush! you said,
and became a fruity Picasso for a not-so little while.
Hey, what’s that rumble? Is it some quake?
No, it’s legendary Willow sleeping deep
(do ladies snore or simply gently nostril dilate?)
in her tent, emerging morning bleary-eyed
and look, ooh, it’s that green man flopping and swinging by!
He’s had a new paint job. Someone did a work of love.
That bloody monster, though,
is still trailing on the ground like some errant vine.
And so it is, in remembrance of camping fun,
we present to you a token of affection, for all
the laughter shared with and given by you.
It’s a courgette. A green one of course.
Let it have a useful life no matter for how long
and, carefully handled, varnished maybe,
treated with a spray, never become broken.
That’s the best we can hope for anyone,
animal, vegetable and mineral
(we’ve been all three from time to time)
but for you on your birthday, the big 4-0,
we wish a whole lot more:
health, happiness, a toyboy or two,
music and parties and unfettered yodelling
and great and powerful loves always true,
friendship and courage and spirit to fight,
the ongoing ability to know and do what’s right
and many more things, too many to list,
by which we mean, in short:
blessings in abundance. Happy birthday Willow!
Found this on my computer; happy memories from five years ago, I’m 45 now :D