All the things my grandmother was not,
I will be for your daughter.
I will tease her with sprigs of dandelion
in the springtime,
tempt her with ripe red melons
in the summer sun,
laugh with her in the languid blaze
of autumn,
cherish her warmth in the starkness
of winter’s chill.
We will have secrets,
she and I.
About cookies
and boyfriends,
lipsticks
and lollipops,
late nights,
early mornings,
and love.
I will wipe away her freckles
with the milky mist of twilight;
she will wipe away my age spots
with the dew.
Together, we will
fret about,
forage through, and
feast upon life
from
one end
to the other.

From Dancing with My Daughter: Poems of Love, Wisdom & Dreams (Loyola Press) 
Used here with the author’s permission.