I don’t care
If she picked my growing shoes
Or her mother’s soft healing hands
As long as she is just my happy girl.
I don’t care
If she picked from either sides
Maternal or paternal light
So long she is the best in what she does.
I don’t care
I watch her smile sheepishly,
Humming to songs from the stereo
As if she knows the lyrics to the songs…
I don’t care
About the beats or musician
How did an infant love music
And happens to just love to dance as well.