My Birthday! what a difference sound That word had in my youthful ears; And how each time the day comes round, Less and less white its mark appears.

"Tell me, what's Love?" said Youth, one day, To drooping Age, who crost his way, "It is a sunny hour of play, For which repentance dear doth pay, Repentance! Repentance! And this is Love, as wise men say

We're hanging in there taking one day at a time you know it's still hard I think about him all the time his smile and teasing me and sitting on my arm telling him to move.

Forty is the old age of youth; fifty is the youth of old age.

What though youth gave love and roses, Age still leaves us friends and wine.

Henry had a great day. I'm glad he had a good day, especially after his birthday.