Daughter sorta "fought" a nother year.

Milly (de Pilly)
is one year older!
Don't think me silly:
I think she's "golder": 

as trials come by
with each year of life,
she don't have to try
it happens, it's rife; 

she's growing beauty
and open-ness too.
More than a duty,
she left her glass shoe, 

I think by mistake,
or else events forced
life's aspects to make
her life a new source

under God, of love
which has the most pow'r;
of all things that shove,
it doesn't somehow,

and yet made the world,
both heavens and earth,
the planets were hurled
and light had it's birth!

The word of that love
let time and space be,
harmless as a dove
but like that Milly.

God, please keep growing
your wisdom in her,
like a snake going
on rock, may she serve

in "impossible"
placings and timings,
for you, God, are full
of wond'rous rhymings.

One in a hundred
or thousand, or more,
Milli-Cent; one dread
batt-le-maiden: you're

daughter who oughta
be of a glad dad!