said the squirrely,
I returned,
A morn like all the rest, it said,
Not at all, I rejoined,
This morn comes but once a year
and is indeed, truly rare.
And not just that, said me to he,
but to one funny rascaly
it is a happy day of birth.

Sir, squirrely, I recommenced,
you know what this friend does
with eyes so bright and round?
She darts about playing full
With perfect shown resolve.
And so with mischief done and through,
She sprightly goes a-racing.
But squirrely, most of all,
in those times of greatest rigor,
this friend of mine never fails
to stand by me resolutely.

Well then, said squirrely to me,
Indeed tis morn rare
for, yea, were happy stars
which first saw child so rightly
and knows who if such will be found again?

Aye, my friend, I replied,
but I must be on my way.
As you know I have a special rendezvous
on this very special morn.

*A/N* I wrote this poem for my bestest friend Amanda!