Poem By C. Michael Miller
My Diana, just 18 months old and
full of energetic, boundless horizons...
I call to her, “Come here, Little Life.”
Arms all akimbo, legs churning ever faster,
she races at me full steam ahead, all the while
squealing and laughing, prepared to
slam right into me.
Ah, but she knows me all too well as
I scoop her up at the last second and swing
her around and around, high over my head.
With dancing eyes, we silently share our vows
as father and daughter amidst the
laughter and the gleam of our shared smiles.
“Come here, Little Life.”