Third

Tiny and wee

And black as can be,

With a bit of white

That showed in the night.

Born number three,

It was wait and see.

Something not right,
Yet she summoned her might.

I couldn't foresee

What she'd mean to me,

That little sprite.

I stayed hopeful and bright.

It was not to be.

She had to be free

From fetters so light.
So she reached a new height.

Now back to three,

Brothers, sisters and me.
I will think of this night
And hold her memory tight.

Third of Four
May 3, 2012-May 6, 2012