The Birth of Venus

Upon a seashell she appears
Resplendent in her nudity;
On the seashore she’s waited years
Demurely in the Uffizi.

Today I met her, still undressed,
As thousands gazed upon her form;
Her birthday clothes her Sunday best,
Let’s hope the sunshine keeps her warm!

I wonder if she’ll ever go
Clothes shopping with her lady friends;
If she does, I wish that she’ll know
When form begins and fashion ends.

So good luck Venus when it’s time
For you to step off your seashell;
You’re clearly still right in your prime
From all the world, we wish you well.