Wow, seven decades, what an achievement that's true
Happy birthday to you, oh how time flew.
You've seen it all, the good and the bad
But your spirit still shines, never sad.
Wrinkles and gray hair, no need for dismay,
You're amazing, living life in your own special way.
Happy Birthday to you on this milestone birthday!
Birthday Age Of Seventy
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
At the marvelous birthday age of seventy,
Your bones predict weather, it's so heavenly.
Arthritis, your faithful barometer,
Who needs apps or a thermometer?
You forecast snow with a knee that's tight,
Rain is imminent if your wrists lose their might.
Your joints creak and groan in poetic refrain
Forecasting sunshine or impending rain.
On your 70th birthday around the sun, aloft in old age's pure delight,
Bald heads gleam, glory found in the platinum light.
Head so bare, it blinds those who gaze your way,
A shiny reminder - Yes! you've lasted another decade’s fray.
In this twilight you sparkle, a glorious beam of joyous age,
Your bald head a disco ball at life's ongoing stage.
Turn seventy you did, under the sun so high and bright,
And proudly you'll sport your crown of light.
Turning Seventy With Flair
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
On the day you turn seventy with great flair,
People gaze in envy at your thinning gray hair.
No comb or gel, it’s your signature style,
Makes folks green-eyed, bringing you a wily smile.
Oh, the sparkle of silver threads on crown,
Gives young hearts around quite a frown.
At this splendid age and nifty reign,
Who knew your balding could gain such fame!
Your Sophisticated Glasses
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
On your 70th birthday you sit, distinguished and grand,
Glasses perched on your nose, with paper in hand.
Peering through specs, in dapper delight,
The world in big print each morning is quite a sight.
Birthdays have come and gone, but seventy's fun,
Each wrinkle a tale of a battle well won.
A toast to your seventies for your dignified class,
Here's to more reading through sophisticated glasses!
Here's To 70
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Seventy years on earth are quite a spree,
Now walkers morph into your utility vehicle, you see.
Once tools of frailty, now chariots of zest,
Weaving through crowds in a humorous jest.
Bumper car heroes by parting the throng,
Charging with laughter, bright and strong.
So here’s to 70, and all its cheer,
Where age spells power, not encumbrance or fear.
At seventy years, now sporting silver hair,
Blessed with grandchildren, cluttering here and there.
They wriggle and giggle, in joy, they twirl,
Yet your home’s in chaos - what a whirl!
Avoiding tripping on toy filled sprawls,
Still their laughter rings through your halls.
Annoying at times, these whippersnappers among,
Oh, but how they keep your heart so young.
A Blessed Age
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
A 70th birthday, a blessed age,
New companion acquired, like the newest gadget page.
A cane, a staff, a walking stick?
No, it's more than old age's comic shtick.
Leisurely strolls and warding off stray dogs,
With cane in hand, you leap like agile frogs.
Part trusted ally and part good sense,
On your 70th birthday, your ready for defense!