When your birds fly south for winter and they get all gloomy and glum, you make them so much better for you’re sweet as a sugarplum. And when those birds get restless from endless days of flight, you say to them as you hug them tight, “I’m proud of you. You’ve come so far. Truly loved, that’s what you are.” You encourage them then send them off. It’s cause of you, they’ll never stop. You’ve worked so hard and taught them good. Their love for you is so great, it is misunderstood. Love you mom. Happy Birthday. (March 5th)