With love of a thousand, unrealized.
With blood of a daughter and that of a father.
The love of a family unknown for so long,
has finally been seen; through the eyes of a child.
One that was lost, and could not find her way.
She has finally chosen a different path.
She has set off to meet the one she chose.
Now the child tries her hardest to change,
and change is what she does best.
She has chosen a path far different
then the one she would have walked.
This child who knew the cold all to well
has set off to a warmer clement.
She has decided to live with the green,
Instead of the white and black;
of the shadows and snows.
A child who writes.
A child who draws.
A child who giggles.
A child who looks.
A child who smiles.
A child who listens.
A child who sings.
A child who writes worlds for others to see.
A child who draws pictures to be rivaled with others.
A child who giggles when the time is right.
A child who looks when told.
A child who smiles when laughter is coming.
A child who listens when others speak.
A child who singings songs of far off places.
A child who singings of a home here in this place.
This is the child that I have become.
For this I thank you for all that you have done.
From that of your prescience daughter (who never listens!).
I send you my thanks
of that I could say a thousand times over.
I am a child of yours
even she can not deny
that simple fact.
