A Birthday Encomium

Sullivan, you are a treasure chest. We’ve known that since the day we were blessed By your arrival eight years ago. But I’ll tell you what we didn’t know: We didn’t know just how rich we’d become, The manifold wealth of our newly born sum. Our 20-inch trunk is now fifty-three tall So say the strokes on our pencil-marked wall. But ‘tisn’t the size of the box gives a rush, ‘Tis the contents therein that make our hearts flush: Humor and trust, ‘magination and joy, Honesty, playfulness, ambition and, boy, Invention and wonder, forgiveness and caring, Spontaneity, patience, focus, and sharing. To know you is to open a lid and behold A beaming assortment of silver and gold— (Or palladium, perhaps, since I know that you’re able To prize all the elements on the whole table). Anyway, there’s so much in our oaken case, That I want to sing all over the place: “Hallelujah, we’re rich! Let’s shower in flowers! For Sullivan Oake Stilson is happily ours!”