Oh, my sweet
summer child,
with your golden smile
and that glimmer in your eyes.
I admire you,
maybe even envy
your blinding sun,
that hurts my tired eyes.
Your sun-kissed
picture frame face
exudes such joviality
but at a pace
With undulating curls
that unfurl around
your shimmering face,
yet still hold place.
How does it feel
to be God’s favorite?
I wonder,
how you smile with such grace.