I’m struck by the wisdom
of the young
How are they wise
When they have not done the things
That wisdom might confer
Loving and giving, full of grace,
My Thursday’s child, fair of face
She’s gone far, with far to go
With far to go, nor full of woe,
She seems to know
What she does not know.
On the day she was born, she looked at my face
And asked do I know you?
And took her place.
Off prompt, a sonnet for my daughter’s 30th birthday