Seventeen Almost Ready To Fly Off

One more year before the wild bird flies her coop. Not bad. Bravo. Wise one. You are more than enough. Your optimism shines throughout your poems. You know yourself. Any idea how rare that is? There are seventy-year olds who have no idea of themselves They live a life set down by others Follow a path not their own They do not realize there was a choice No one said it Whether miserable or barely happy, they do not complain Knowing no better. One more year before you leave the family nest, my friend Your words will carry you to great heights, You will write poetry to help save the others It will come more naturally and completely as you sleep in a nest of your own making With pillows you choose and a comforter that makes you feel safer than you had ever dared dreamed. A mere 365 days until you can be fully, utterly, diabolically you. Live spontaneously! Enthusiastically kick around your joy. Take risks. Love people no one else ever would or could. Bring home stray puppies. Dance your dance. Sing your song. You are on your way. Only 365 days. I am so proud of you. I see the optimism and enthusiasm in your poetry, and I smile realizing you are heading toward the biggest adventure of your life. I love this for you. Take risks. Have fun. Fear no one. Enjoy yourself like you have never enjoyed yourself before. Happy birthday. It is almost time....