Each year but one, starting in 2014, I've attempted to write a poem for Cynthia on her birthday, May 19. She has been both kind and gentle in expressing her thanks, and here they are, now, in one collection.

Above you see a graphic with the poem I originally wrote for the introduction to this tribute. Note: the photos pertain more to the subject of their related poem than to the year for their section.

2020

Midst all acclaim and glory giv'n,
You move your hands, and speak with sense.
The leaders hear, then nod while driv'n
By tender dreams just yonder; hence

We follow you with awe, respect,
In hopes those dreams will soon appear.
And in our minds, the stage is decked
With paragons in Virtue's spear

Which penetrate the raging sea
That battles all 'tis good, and right;
Which vanquish foes who lie at lee,
Awaiting chance to stir your flight.

Oh, how you waver not, dear Friend,
For your ideals do flow from One
Who knows how evil to but rend
Away by using Battle's sun!

2019

How I long to hear your song
Once again in midst of throng
Which oft does cheer, admitting clear
That here ... is where, Ma'am ... you belong:

Up on stage, with words so sage
As to Wisdom's firm approach
To all that enter Life's great rage,
Deflecting those who Peace encroach.

Ah, the stress does dissipate
When we do hear your soulful tone.
Ah, the joy to ruminate
Instead of suffering Living's drone.

Thank you for your melody
That takes us to our rhapsody.
Thank you for your gentle touch,
That we may beams of kindness clutch.

2018

Amidst the pomp and circumstance
Across the pond, with all its flare,
There stands, at home, with royal glance
A Hero too. For none would dare

Bequeath their songs, or poses fine,
To destitution's pain and grief.
And yet she strives and will opine
For souls immured to find relief.

Oh, that her star begins to beam
Throughout this globe, as is its wont.
Oh that her spirit's freedom gleam
Be freed to enter Vict'ry's jaunt!

2017

Now, once again, we celebrate
Another year through life's long fate
Which brought its highs, and brought its lows,
And tendered friends, and tendered foes.

But oh, the Lady stands still tall
And reg'lly bent t'wards all in all.
The poise and stature do not change,
With no attempt to re-arrange

Important things to satisfy
The murmuring folk who must belie
The truth to make their forward path,
But ending dire in aftermath.

Instead she stands with fervent smile,
Without a wont to taunt, beguile;
For she admits that where she's been
Resides inside of Holy's den!

2016

She stands so tall amidst the throng
Of feeding folk, who hear her song;
And nourished by its brightness be
More constant dwelt in Reverie.

And yet she'll travel miles away
To keep a nation's Dearth at bay.
Deprived of Opportunity,
Its citizens more pow'rful be

As she opines to interlope...
Upon Resistance, pleading Hope...
While all the nations hear her voice,
And those who need her soon rejoice

E'en though the Progress works so slow,
At least her voice is steady; though
Her heart does ache, for it's deprived...
The total Vict'ry not arrived.

Yet still she sings with Style and Grace,
And we, her listeners, interlace
The Joy, the Hope, the Wisdom sage...
As we attend beneath her stage!

2014

On Special Days, in Special Ways,
You stir the best in me.
And I do bow in wondering how
The little things you see?

Oh, will you please, Miss, take thine ease,
Enjoying heart-felt time
Of love between the ones you've seen
And those you meet through rhyme!