When Lulu was very little, it seemed like I was constantly inspired to wax poetic for or about her. I referred to her as my Little Muse; I saw poetry in her asking me to read to her or in how much she makes me think of my grandma; I made up little rhymes about changing her diaper or the fact that she didn't eat anything except ham and/or ketchup for a period.
Now she is all grown up. She's almost 5, and while she still amazes and challenges me every day, I don't seem to be as likely to bust-a-rhyme about/for her as I was. What gives? What am I missing? What have I lost? And how do I get it back?
NPM, day 12
Poem removed by author