Dear Kywee

I remember vividly that day you came into my life
And moments where you'd hold my hand, stroke my hair, look into my eyes
You'd tell me things, your dreams, your wishes, plans and blisters
And if I don't listen, you'd stomp your feet
Or you'd pat me on my shoulder
If I don't pay attention, you'd be in my face
Sometimes under the table, just so I can see you and get all my attention
You were four, now you're nine
Born a chatterbox; always guilty of that crime
Soon, you'll be talking about boys and how they are scums
Famous girls in school and how they are dumb
And how teachers make your brain numb
And show me your paintings, waiting for the thumb
When you were four, explaining things weren't as hard
Now you're nine; my experiences in life will play their part
We'll talk about expectations and heartbreaks, people and cupcakes
The game of baseball and about safety nets
About happiness and what makes me sad
For you don't know who I am
And you need to know who I am

-PRK-