It’s three and a half years;
she just got here
a source of amazement and joy,
my lens through which
I see old things new again.
The other day, I informed her
of something only she could have done.
After we discussed it,
she cut to the chase
asking in her tiny voice,
Auntie Shari, did you see me doing it?
Even still, she wears her innocence
a shimmering translucent garment
covering her from head to toe.
It glows brightly at times
like when she scrambles
from the floor to the sofa as I approach,
burying just her head
in cushions and pillows.
She giggles and musically proclaims,
You can’t see me.
So I know I have a little while longer.
©2009 Shari Lynne Smothers
Prompt: Write a poem a poem with (or about) someone (or something) covered. This is my poem for Day 6 of the 2009 November PAD Chapbook Challenge.