Joyce
1918 this was the year for happiness and heartache
The happiness of birth, the heartache of death.
The flu pandemic that lasted two years, killing so many
The birth of a daughter Joyce
no one knew she would reach 100 years
I wonder how many times Joyce has enjoyed the pleasure
of walking around the US Botanic Garden
The gardens abound with azaleas, lilies, orchids,
an exotic jungle and a tropical rain forest
I can imagine a smiling face as her muse translates the vision to words
a masterpiece created in a place of beauty.
I would love to read the mind of Joyce
as she sits with pride atop the Tulip float.
Mind wandering to days of yore, about times happy and sad
Today her birthday, what can you give someone of advanced years
The hand of friendship I offer you, wrapped up in a painting of a flower.
"Happy Birthday"
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