3hirty Thr3e in April

She wanted someone to love,
and so she fell for herself for all of thirty three.
She made loving look easy,
finding herself amongst the lost.
She was a warrior by blood
ready to chase after what she bought.
An unveil for the ones who brushed her aside.
Enamoured for the ones that stood beside her,
yet she wasn’t bitter,
she wasn’t sour.
She was not all sad poems and broken lines,
she was the flower that bloomed only in May.
Every year she spent her birthday in different timezones,
worked her blood, sweat and tears.
Stubborn as a bull she drove her ambition,
the result only showed on her passport.
Celebrating her ever after she blew out the candles,
raised a glass of Sauvignon Blanc to all of her that night.
No witnesses, no pictures, no company,
she was a winner in all her stories,
she was a hero who saved the day,
she was a super human in every fairytale,
she was the giant who people wrote stories about for a change!
Cheers 33!

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