Of April

To my descendant April,
Who may never hear of such a name as mine,
And never see my face as I do hers,
You had a most wonderful birth,
Not passive in the least you came,
Screaming and kicking and changing,
Shaking the room with your future,
I saw it clearly from my spot in the corner,
Even as the rest of your family crowded in,
You were very full of light from the start,
I watched from unoccupied chairs,
As you ventured out into the vast apartment,
Hair not yet long enough to be brushed out of your hazel eyes,
Nothing escaped your vision,
I have tried my best to keep you safe since then,
And only a few scars have escaped my own sore eyes,
But that's growing up,
Which you have done splendidly,
Right up to and through the drinking under the bleachers phase,
Which was trying for both of our psyches,
You never lose the ground you gain for a second,
Nor a drop of the light you blessedly started with,
Did I hear,
From my place on the outskirts of your dinner table,
That you were ready to pass that light on?
Or at least portion it out to your own children,
Who I hear will turn out much like their mother,
With just a tad in all the right places of father,
The last time I remember dancing was when you two met,
I cannot even postulate how bright that will all be,
But you will always be my brightest,
My April,

No matter how long I've been gone you will always be the brightest.