Your face scrunches up like a ball of paper,
and the nerve-splitting wail erupts from your tiny lungs.
You cry and scream, you feel abandoned and betrayed,
and I pray that you never know what it truly means to suffer.
How can you already feel so sad, when you do not know of
the horrors haunting humanity and the evil that exists outside?
You have no reason to cry now: save up that emotion for
when you are old enough to understand the newspapers.
You have everything a little girl could need, want, and more,
and it breaks my heart that you already feel so much pain.
Save your tears for the teenage breakups, study stress,
celebrations and weddings that you will experience.
I love you because you do not cry over spilt milk,
but you laugh and laugh and dance on the dairy-doused floor.
The Cloud can rain on me for the rest of my days,
as long as you enjoy eternal sunshine.