A poem for Katrina, by her Daddy
When you were very little,
Less than two but more than one.
You started out by crawling but
You didn’t find it very fun.
Your very first footsteps,
my dear, didn’t turn out well.
You wobbled, shook, and
Down you went. Right on
Your butt you fell.
Then a few years later,
When you were just a little tyke,
I picked you up and set you down
On your very first new bike.
You pedaled and you pedaled,
But when you went to turn,
You saw a squirrel and down
You went. A face-full of nasty
Now you’re such a big girl,
You’re in school and doing math.
I know it’s awfully tempting just
To say “Dad I can’t do this crap!”
But I want you to think back,
To all of those other firsts.
Your busted butt, your road rash face,
and how bad all of it hurt.
But you didn’t give up on walking,
and you kept riding that bike.
And now you run so well and
You can pedal faster than light.
So when you’ve got subtraction,
And division giving you hell,
I hope you’ll realize that it’s just
Another step in your life’s stairwell.
And just like walking and riding,
Eventually it’ll be part of you.
And you’ll wonder why it seemed
So hard, this stuff that’s so easy
For you to do.