This is going to be mooshy-gooshy and all dripping with sap.
If that’s not your thing, feel free to skip it and take a nap.
Today, a very special Dear Reader will get called out.
This person, near and dear, deserves a birthday shout.

This is a surprise, so please promise not to tell.
It’s for my one and only sweety, my dear wife Mel.
Mel provides me with strength, and fosters an even state,
  has always been more than kind to this poetic primate.

For three decades, she’s supported me and always been near,
  even though I never call her “Lovey-Dovey” or “Dear.”
With all of my poems, I’m allowed to cohabitate.
I’m fortunate indeed, to have such a special mate.

Inside our home, we’ve created an inviting stage.
It’s true, some things just get better with age.
Yes, Mel’s the one I love, my rock and soul mate.
And, if I revealed her true age, she’d be irate.

When Mel was fifty, I found gifts that were good:
A pair of whippet end tables carved of mahogany wood.
Mel loves her whippets with their marble and gold;
Always at the ready, they will never get old.

In thinking of gift ideas today, my thoughts are stranded.
Other than this mooshy-gooshy poem, I’ve come up empty-handed.
For no matter how feeble my poetry, or what I might say,
  Mel is always there to give me another chance the next day.

Remember, it’s a secret, I don’t display public affection.
Don’t tell anybody that I’ve found companionship perfection.
I’ll present tonight after dinner and hope it goes well.
This line is to remind me to say, “I love you, Mel!”