For my daughter Amelia.
No. You are fairer still.
And filled with light and whimsy.
You wear beauty gently.
A gossamer gown flowing with light.
I stop. I stare and stutter.
Beauty overcomes and my joy is complete.
Where did such wondrous grace emerge?
What sorcerer conjured you from dust?
It was God and Nature and Truth together.
For none could by themselves.
I revel in your shadow.
And wonder that you are my child.
No one deserves such bounty.
No man could hold such wealth.
All one can do is to love and be loved.
By that which cannot be possessed.
To love my own blood. To love you. My Amelia.