C. Michael Miller
Little Life - Poem by C. Michael Miller
My Diana, just 18 months old and
full of energetic, boundless horizons...
I call to her, “Come here, Little Life.”
Arms all akimbo, legs churning ever faster,
she races at me full steam ahead, all the while
squealing and laughing, prepared to
slam right into me.
Ah, but she knows me all too well as
I scoop her up at the last second and swing
her around and around, high over my head.
With dancing eyes, we silently share our vows
as father and daughter amidst the
laughter and the gleam of our shared smiles.
“Come here, Little Life.”
Comments about Little Life by C. Michael Miller
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl