BY   your  dad  2/29/08


Since she is turning forty,

She needs a car that’s sporty.

One that lets the top down,

To zoom and run around town.


Not like when thirty-nine,

But one that has a shine.

Her hair blowing in the breeze,

Oh my, she’s such a tease.


Though always late for dinner,

She still is a real winner.

Maybe with a car that’s fast,

Then she’ll not arrive last.


But though you’er getting older,

I hear you are no colder.

Just the same ole Kimberly.

Wishing she was twenty-three.