Happiest birthday to the dearest of Seusses

This can’t be coincidence, the books I’ve been reading.

The words my kid’s hearing, the art she’s been seeing.

For the past three nights straight, I have introduced

My daughter to a man pseudonym’d Dr. Seuss.

See, a relative’s moving, limiting what he took.

And he happened, by chance, to find this old book.

A tome with six stories Dr. Seuss drew and penned.

“This is for Bethany,” he quite plainly said.

He handed it over, and we took it with glee.

Some new books to read kiddo, and guess what? They’re free.

We started immediately, dipped in our feet.

Now my daughter’s visited ‘Mulberry Street.’

‘The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins’

Was next on the list. Simply put, kiddo loved it.

‘Horton Hatches the Egg,’ was book number three.

Then ‘Yertle the Turtle.’ Then the Lorax’s trees.

The latter’s my favorite; it’s a dark, heavy read.

I’m totally #TeamTree. Thumbs down to #TeamThneed.

Lastly came Who-ville’s kleptomaniac Grinch.

Yes, Christmas was months ago, but it did in a pinch.

Then we come to today, when a scan of the news

Informed me that it is a day for Doc Seuss.

You see, it’s his birthday, his hundred-eleventh.

I couldn’t have planned this. It felt like a present.

A reminder of sorts on the art he imparted,

How it’s not just for kids, to be read and discarded.

Whether you’re six months, or 31 years.

His work stands the test of time. That much is clear.

So happiest birthday to the dearest of docs.

You’ve a new fan to deal with, and she can’t even talk.

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