Of all the years, not giving a fiddle, the sixteenth groans
At least just a little, moans, peering over its pithy old shoulder
Down the valley of memories that threads for its child
So many red 'hoods' in "I told her!"
It's a magical, flirtatious, delicious domain with tinkers and bells,
Surprises and spells, with squeezes and pinches
And sugar sweet shells.
Of all the years, the sixteenth whispers and shushes
A moment, at least, awash, farfetched into a future
Full of kaleidoscope prisms, perspectives,
Opinions, but sad, no dragons, no wishes.
No more spells and elves, nor even some witches.
Of all the years, the sixteenth ahumphs
Away nightmare fears and babyified tears,
And welcomes the brand newest of questions
The best of all answers that bring, ah, what, but
More of the same old brand newest of selections of questions.
So, be awake in your stride in the halls of the latest of niches,
When the cook throws all of the finest of all of the dishes,
while those, and the maddest of mad Hatters madly comes calling,
Calling for toasting a month of March Hare with not a sign of mad malice,
At the party in the future for my fine and sweet Alice.
These are my hopes for all the new floats
In the parade of new senses
With life changing tenses, dreams we have traded
After all, from what was, to what will,
Before none,in the mirror, all now and upgraded
Sweet Alice all aglow and unbridled in Wonder.
Henceforth and just so, my good and kind daughter,
As this was just so and so forth, for even with me, ever so, such a bother.
Then life, for you, so old as it was, and young as it is, so both shall it seem.
With love from your ancient, outdated and silly old father.