I use to look at you from places high, never knew you were July born.
The stability and tact you bring into things marvel me.
Though I be late, I will still say on your birthday:
I wish the sun sends warm rays your way, making the dough of your dream rise widely again.
That the wind blow cold breezes across your face, flying your hair in freedom.
Best of wishes from an afar off onlooker.
You may not know me but I know you.