Dear Bev,

Some birthdays come and slip away;
this one deserves its due —
for every year looks good in gold,
and gold looks best on you.

You're Bev, you're Prissy, and you're Mom,
you're Beverly Renae;
you're Ms. Durr to a few — each name
says love a different way.

You know a label at a glance,
a stitch, a cut, a seam;
the belt, the bag, the perfect shoe —
and wear them like a dream.

Your jewelry catches every light,
each piece just so, in place;
but nothing that you've ever worn
outshines your smiling face.

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

A soror true in pink and green,
your sisters by your side;
at mahjong night you click the tiles
and call the win with pride.

Your 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 your heart can hold.

So here's to you, and many more —
in pink, in gold, in style.
The world gets brighter, Mom, each time
we get to see you smile.