Perfectly formed;
you mustn’t have been born,
merely magicked from a moody maelstrom.
Dissipate and deliver your devilish self
to me.
Never less than just you,
not anything that grew
from a sad, shriveled seed
fighting forcefully to flower.
You bloom.
Iridescent under eternal, eager eyes,
you materialised,
not from a baby’s cries
softened by mother’s saddest sighs,
but just alive
merely for a moment
by my missed time.
You are much more than mine.
Reappear recklessly, my dear
and shine.