Tiny shouts echo mine
as I scold your bad manners.
Really, I'm happy to have you,
and I'm glad to hear your shouts,
a voice so sweet in the dark.

Tiny fingers clench my hand
as I usher you across the street.
You complain you have to carry things
and I'm glad those fingers
are held in mine.

Tiny eyes meet my own.
A smile plays cheerily
off of the blue-black beauty
and I'm glad your eyes
chose to look at me.

Tiny prints dot the white dust
as we make the perilous trek
across the barren land of our backyard
and I'm glad that those prints
belong to you.

Tiny hearts hold much love
for me, I think you said.
I treat you like a daughter;
I love you like a sister,
and I'm glad to have you.