Happy birthday, Beverly

Some birthdays come and go like days;
this one deserves its due —
for sixty-five looks good in gold,
and gold looks best on you.

She's Bev, she's Prissy, and she's Mom,
she's Beverly Renae;
she's Ms. Durr to a few — and each
is loved in its own way.

She knows a label at a glance,
a stitch, a cut, a seam;
the belt, the bag, the perfect shoe —
she dresses like a dream.

Her jewelry catches every light,
each piece just so, in place;
but nothing that she's ever worn
outshines her smiling face.

For years at Intuit she kept
the people first in mind —
the open door, the steady word,
the honest and the kind.

A soror true in pink and green,
her sisters by her side;
at mahjong night she clicks the tiles
and calls the win with pride.

Her Tesla whispers through the A,
then home to end the night:
a Criminal Minds marathon —
and every guess is right.

But past the polish and the shine,
the labels and the gold,
there's one thing finer than it all:
the love her heart can hold.

So here's to Bev at sixty-five —
in pink, in gold, in style.
The world's a little brighter, Mom,
for every time you smile.