A tumble of words for my grand-daughter at one day old.

Nothing’s getting done round here,
The kitchen’s in a mess.
No vacuuming the bedroom round,
The missing car keys won’t get found,
And ironing flows off every chair.

Strangers may sigh and roll their eyes,
I don’t care if they do!
I’m wearing jumpers outside in,
And standing about with a stupid grin,
With photos propped up everywhere.

No enchantment, or a magic spell,
Would make me feel like this.
I know its Nature and She would say
‘There’s babies born on every day!’
But I will tell her ‘Just stop right there!’

You see I know, am very sure
NO-ONE’s ever felt just as I do.
The glorious miracle, the magic now,
The why, the where, the who, the how…
Is you! Is you! Is you! Is You! Is you!