This poem about our youngest came about while I was 'singing' to her one day, making up words as I sang. A couple of phrases stuck with me and I decided to write them down. This poem would have fit nicely with any one of our grand kids. I share it here because I think those of you with children and/or grandchildren will understand.
My granddaughter Pookie is only one.
She always keeps me on the run.
Two days a week, we spend time with each other.
Along with her rambunctious three-year-old brother.
Her crinkled nose and wobbly walk,
Her babbles when she tries to talk,
Charms me like no other could.
The love between us is understood.
I’ll love Pookie when she turn two.
And I’ll spoil her often, as grandfathers do.
I’ll love her still, when she reaches three.
Her hair will be longer and she’ll be diaper free.
There is no doubt, that when she turns four,
I’ll be loving her even more.
And when she is five and growing so fast,
I’ll be praying our relationship will always last.
She’ll be going to school when she is six.
By then I’ll have a million pics.
At seven she’ll be busy, activities all week.
We'll have to schedule a date, to meet.
Her friends will come first when she turns eight.
When you’re a grandparent, no doubt, that’s your fate.
A young lady will appear as Pookie turns nine.
Her eyes will sparkle, her hair will still shine.
When Pookie turns ten, I’ll almost be old.
And many years later she’ll ne'er need be told,
“You know, your Papa loved you so!”
Because, my little Pookie… she will know.