Paula
Far too deep much too serious her skies are cloudy often grey,
They are meant as observations not as criticisms in any way,
For I can still clearly remember as in my arms she delicately lay,
She was fast asleep yet smiling ‘twas on her very, very first day.
A chubby little bundle all crinkly, blotched and red,
With just a few downy hairs upon her precious head,
A cry and then perhaps a whimper her little arms outspread,
We looked on proudly in wonderment as she slept on in her bed.
She was a lovely little child though a horrid tyke as well,
When she wanted her own way she would stamp her feet and yell,
Scuffing her new shoes was her most favourite way to rebel,
If she was happy or if she was gloomy I did not know and could not tell,
The lovely girl in question alas is far too much like her dad,
Though now a young lady she oft appears to look quite sad,
But when she smiles her face lights up, it makes her old dad glad,
There's not a lot more I can say about her there's no more I can add.
Except:
I would not want her to change a jot sheer perfection that is she.
I love her and think of her all the time and in my minds eye still see,
A chubby little bundle that fills this old heart with glee,
My lovely daughter Paula you are all happiness to me,
