My Sprite

I still remember the day I cried,

But not with fright,

For the nurse shied,

And did not show me

My little sprite.

And when the soft bundle came into my arms,

The brown eyes opened wide,

Entranced me with their magical light.

She let out a wail loud,

And I fell in love with her naughty pout.

The tiny fist closed around my finger tight,

Reassuring herself that come what may,

I will be at her side,

Holding her hand,

Walking along,

And if she stumbled,

I would not let her fumble.

Years passed and time flew.

The fist grew big,

And the clasp tighter.

My Sprite became my best friend.

As we talk the night away under the starry sky,

I fondly recall the night when she made me cry.

She tells me all that is in her heart,

And reads all that is in mine.

She looks into my eyes,

And knows when all is not fine.

She shares her dreams,

And makes me a part of those,

As she digs deep to find my inner quotes.

And now the little hand entwined in mine,

Holds me when I cry.

When I stumble,

The tiny hand now,

Stops me from being pummelled,

In all the rumble and tumble.

We walk along holding hands,

We savour the joys,

We brave the odds,

We wipe each other’s tears,

And laugh along.

The hand held tight,

We dream the joys in sight.

9 thoughts on “My Sprite”

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