An Ode to My Daughter

My daughter was born with winter in swing,
all done with fall and midway to spring.

Two chocolate drop eyes and a cherubic nose
just above blushing cheeks that were lit like a rose.

She rewrote our life with an edit of wonder,
took all our targets and tore them asunder.

No matter how much you know, or how much you care,
no mother or father can ever prepare

For the razor thin line that’s drawn after birth
between sacrifices needed and what they are worth.

For two and a half years, she shared with no other,
just Mommy and Daddy; no sign of a brother.

We soaked 29 months like light from the sun,
with learning and laughter and fistfuls of fun.

Then her brother was born and to our surprise,
the two of them met when she stared in his eyes.

“I love you, Max Michael,” our little girl said.
She first kissed his cheek and then patted his head.

The four of us frolicked through several new stages,
chewing our challenges and varying changes.

We opened our school and told her we’d need her
to set an example and be a good leader.

She stepped right up and shined like a star,
beaming a broadcast about how lucky we are.

Like lightning our years quickly fell from the sky.
First preschool then kinder, both flew right on by.

Now she’s in 1st grade, our sweet little lass -
caring, creative, and top of her class.

I love her smile, her humor and mind.
I love that she’s tender. I love that she’s kind.

My little Mia, like an apple and tree,
is a little bit Mommy and a little bit me.

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