On Catherine's warm fifty-seventh year, With laughter and love so bright and clear, She unwraps stories, soft and rich, As crisp as chips in a picnic pitch. Pooh joins the party, tubby and sweet, With honeyed tales at Catherine's feet. In the woods of time where joy does stay, Friends gather close, and dreams won’t fray. To Catherine's heart, both old and new, May life be golden like Winnie the Pooh, With each salty chip and sunlit cheer— A birthday remembered, treasured and dear.