One out of four is still left to be told,
Last but not least this cute little fold.

Smallest and longest her entry to earth,
Siblings and parents awaiting her birth.

Brother was there on a Monday morn,
With big blue eyes seeing sister born.

Sickly, yet feisty, using all her best might,
Trying to keep her here was our great fight.

Worries and surgeries for the first few years,
Sleeplessly pacing and shedding some tears.

Hope for a life expectancy she had not,
Possessed by a purpose on she fought.

In spite, how tall and willow she has grown,
Now twenty years passed and she is her own.

Still very feisty not mellow, this woman strong,
Moving through stages with the love of a song.

Her tunes seem troubled in this time of her life,
To watch her struggle feels quite like a knife.

So, this too shall pass with time as they say,
Possessed by a purpose, she’ll find her way.

Those big brown eyes and dark curly hair,
Talking and walking, my child is still here.