my sweet summer child who can do no wrong

to the finest of my kin and / the sweetest of my daughters, / the most delightful girl this world has ever seen. / she grows, and grows, and grows, / and i cannot stop her! i cannot, for all i try to keep her young, / she grows older today, / demeter holding persephone in vain. / but i know she’ll remain as the spring is: / the brightest of smiles, the most innocent of laughs, / the most gentle of mind, the kindest of heart, / the sweetest mother to her cerberus, a fine keeper of tartarus’ plants. / oftentimes, i think: she is too good for this world, but i know, / she is brave enough to face it. / kindness unparalleled is rare these days, and this / is what makes her strong. / so as she grows, and grows, and grows, / from that girl with the golden smiles and the mochi waffles i met those months ago, / underneath fine-printed, imagery laden and language-rich ink, / into what she is today, / i wish her well. / my sweet summer child who could do no wrong: / i wish her a happy birthday.