And so the twelfth, they say.

Delicate really, i suppose. And today is the 3rd. The 3rd of 91.

Oh it makes so little sense for such a large number

But being 91 this day, would have had you born in 1919?

I hope that is correct, for he has seen all I wish to have seen,

And much worse, much less.

Labels were correct, simplistic and for all,

What were bananas?

And the local shop was one.

The music when he was born, was rythmatic, so beautiful,

As he progressed it became swing, became Rock 'n Roll,

Oh to see it all?

I've a light feeling in my stomach,

aware that I spent just the other night,

Watching as he would've, in the old picture house.

Oh and how lucky you were, to have been born the year

I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles published.

Happy Birthday.