The mature one :)

Poetry is for flowers
So here follows a feeble saga
Of someone so becoming
Who mere prose cannot conjure
And yet a wondrous landscape
Needs no Michelangelo to paint it
Nor do truly mighty deeds
Need bards to sing verses
For it is the beauty of the subject
Which uplifts the literary product
Of a hastily construed imagination
Into truly everlasting poetry

So do I speak of a child
Who touched my life fleetingly
Her gracious and sweet smile
Lives still deep in my vivid memory
Or a girl whose star shone
So bright, she dazzled instantly
With an exceptionally diverse intellect
Was it her mighty pen which rescued
Many a hapless unacademic soul :)
Or the way she applies herself unflinchingly
To something she actually cares for

And yet I do no justice to the woman
Her features, manners and dainty graces
The power to love unquestioningly a rare one
But far rarer is to be loved and admired by many

Behind the pretty face though lurks
A tongue of steely sarcasm
I pause in silence for the unsuspecting
Might I say butchered souls :P
All I can wish from her this day
Is a promise to write again
May she wield the pen yet again
Though this time for a nobler cause
I wish the mature imp happy birthday
May she smile all life long