The owl, that came in from the cold
A tapestry of colours, from a papier mache mould
A beautiful birthday gift to behold
For when i'm sixty four, plus one years old!
With my name on it's derriere, so neatly scrolled
It's inspired this poem, as it unfolds
(Anything ending in 'old', is easy to rhyme, or so ive been told!)
A thanks to a Rose, for a gift, that is gold

by Jemia