PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The first time I ever saw her I was smitten by her face,

A tiny bundle dressed in pink, her blanket edged by lace.

She grew so fast that I got lost in the smile she started giving.

My dainty niece got high on air and had a zest for living.

I have a picture (now locked up) of a tiny her in costume,

A frilly tutu round her waist, she poses like a statue.

But the Stephanie we love and know is not that prissy girl.

Heck no!  Our Steph plays softball and gives all sports a whirl.

She would never stay on the sidelines as others played a game.

Competition is her world, "play ball" her middle name.

She's beautiful and spunky, but I dare not tell her so.

I'm afraid that she would deck me, she's strong enough, you know.

If ever athletes have a course in modeling or charm

My Stephanie will win awards and make the male hearts swarm.

I'll never understand it--how she got so much that's right.

A nimble mind, a lovely face, in a body  packed so tight.

Yet, at times I grow nostalgic, and I wonder if she knows.

That she's still my little Stephanie who writes poetry and prose.