while pedaling her little bike
(training wheels dragging behind),
early Sunday morning.
Little birds cheerily chirp
their salute to the new day
and her laughter brightly rings,
early Sunday morning.
Sunrays hitting the rose buds
reveal greens and velvet pinks
not unlike her cheeks and eyes
early Sunday morning.
All is quiet in the house
everyone else is asleep
she is outside in her pajamas,
early Sunday morning.
And I sit quietly and smile
sharing in this magic hour
with my daughter’s little daughter
early Sunday morning.