My grand-daughter is one of the greatest gifts to me,
A tender child of sweet innocence.
She reads books in make-believe languages,
Sounding out words in lilting voices while blowing kisses into air.
She smells perfume in buttered flowers scattered where others view weeds,
Chasing butterflies within fields where moths often fly.
She sees worms on warm sidewalks wiggling with wonder,
Grown-ups step purposely, never asking themselves, “why?”
She lifts miniature hands high in the sky reaching for magic snowflakes,
Hoping they’ll be here tomorrow and the next day and the next…
She hears blue birds singing precious melodies,
Others couldn’t care less.
She finds treasures in broken twigs or shimmering rocks resting in shallow ponds,
No one else thinks twice about.
Each and every day brings brand new joy for her,
Spilling over with love, enough to tip a pot of paint.
I can’t believe my luck,
To share this gift from God above.
If I could make one simple wish upon a star for her,
It would be to keep her sweet innocence forever and a day or more….