The Golden Child -For Whitney, My Niece

 

 

Where lives the child up in a tree,

Down from up dear Whitney jumped,

Hands up in flight, mouth crying, “Wee!”

She lands on her head,

Her forehead she bumped!

She’ll dance on a lark,

She’ll sing on a whim.

Come away! Dear Child!

To the waters and the wild,

With your Tia, hand in hand,

For the world is still a happy place,

That you will come to know.

 

We giggle and wiggle and bounce on our toes,

I am of the opinion,

God made you for me.

A sprite little Clown,

For you I can see,

In my heart,

 You are old.

Now give us a “kish”,

And please make a wish,

I thank God to see you so bold.

Come away! Dear Child!

To the waters and the wild,

With your Tia, hand in hand,

For the world is still a happy place,

That you will come to know.

Note:  Written 23 of July, 1998 at Bread Loaf School of English-New Mexico- Teaching, Reading, and Enjoying Poetry.  Bruce Smith, professor.  My niece Whitney is an explosion of energy and fun and I thought of what she would be like as a young lady when I wrote this for her. 

 

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