In the garden of spring on April's sweet call, Maria turns fifty-five, yet forever young. Her laughter is music, a life-lived thrall, Beauty in motion, a song unsung. Like blossoms that bloom when the world is awake, Her friendship's a treasure, steadfast and bright. With a heart full of kindness, a smile she'll make, A friend for life's journey, in day and in night. Forever she's swinging on fun's joyful vine, Her spirit a beacon that warms every mile. Maria, whose presence is like sweetened wine— A soul ever radiant, with an endless smile.