Happy Birthday, Sam!

n A g e m l o ,T r F o

a h S a ma n t

The Name That Cannot Be Traced Along the side of a four-cornered room, you sat there so fierce in your own cocoon.

Then time, unspoken, placed you next to me.

The name's Samuel but feminine and she Bloomed at eight months, seven days with six nights.

Her growth is within, so forget the heights.

They’ve got no fear and they’ve got Franky's tongue, light brunette and their allure brims bright young.

Samuel gave me a cup toward my chest Funny, but I love how true—so I respect.

I offer this art which others don’t like, ’Cause they’d rather have gold than words of psych.

You're more than lasting dimes, so take this gift: Sonnet of love which you can revisit.