You’re tall, you’re fast, you’re quick to learn.
You’re everything your Grandpa wished.
He charged me with his library
To hold it for you, Little Miss.
He told me when to give you what:
The comic books of Indian Myth,
The pop-up Russian fairy tales,
The illustrated Chinese skits,
That German children’s geometry,
That Japanese abacus text,
And on and on for twenty years,
For every birthday and the next.
And for today, your very first,
He wished for you his warmest hug,
The one he only gave to me,
While others only got his shrug.
But as I can’t be with you now,
And mourning rules forbid all gifts,
I write a poem for your ears
And amber Grandpa’s love in this.
Minakhi Misra 