Dear cousin of mine…
I see you at four,
coloring without care,
singing the songs of Disney,
and waiting by the door for mama.
You are the face of innocence…
you are the poster child for joy…
how blessed are you to possess the ignorance that comes with youth.
Keep it in your crayon box.
Zip it up in your backpack.
Cherish it while it is still yours.
Love it in its full bloom.