To me, fair friend, you can never be old,
For as you were as first your eye I eyed…
—from Sonnet 104, William Shakespeare

Because your eyes are the same as those of
the 8-year-old next door, whose neighborhood
next to a lake, amid oak trees, was now mine,

and how you welcomed my sister and me,
you, the cherished only child, acquiring two
sorta sisters next door in the blink of a summer day,

whether you wanted us or not, and I,
lucky girl, without knowing it, had found a
best friend nine months older and a head taller,

who, still, now and always, is the one I think
of first when someone asks about childhood
memories. Your eyes, still hazel, your capable

surgeon’s hands, your heart grown more
generous with age—still you, still Sue,
and we lucky ones, so many of us,

to have you in our lives, who cherish you,
thank you for all you’ve brought to our lives,
wish you well and send you great joy.