Nineteen Is A Prime Number (Birthday Sonnet) Poem by Christopher McInnes

The Greeks thought eighteen was the perfect age:
in their eyes that was when a boy became,
in mind and body, fit for gods, the stage
when glowing beauty burned its brightest flame.

And true to this, how dazzling has been
the light you’ve shone this year, how warm the love
you’ve radiated, how intense the scene
you’ve graced, admired by the gods above.

What then of nineteen, after perfection?
Just this: the gods will treat you as a star
and raise you closer to their affection,
so we will love you still, but from afar.

Now be our ever constant mark, be true
in years to come, and we’ll be true to you.
The Greeks thought eighteen was the perfect age:
in their eyes that was when a boy became,
in mind and body, fit for gods, the stage
when glowing beauty burned its brightest flame.

And true to this, how dazzling has been
the light you’ve shone this year, how warm the love
you’ve radiated, how intense the scene
you’ve graced, admired by the gods above.

What then of nineteen, after perfection?
Just this: the gods will treat you as a star
and raise you closer to their affection,
so we will love you still, but from afar.

Now be our ever constant mark, be true
in years to come, and we’ll be true to you.