She likes a lot of smells 

That of wet dog

And she listens well 

She thinks a rainstorm is the perfect condition for a jog 

The ocean is where she always wants to go 

But sometimes she’ll settle for the art show or the forest 

She looks out for the poorest    

She’s not afraid of loud noises: the shooting range and fireworks 

And though it’s strange 

When she loses a board game she smirks

As if winning isn’t the point of life

She likes chicken and rice 

But sometimes just wants to eat macaroni and cheese 

And I cave at the first plea of “pleeeaaasse”

She loves Golden retrievers and labradors 

We got her a puppy but she wants a hundred more 

She watches thunderstorms to see if lightning ever strikes 

And she reads whatever she likes

National Geographic, Agatha Chrstie

She thinks snowfall is magic 

And she marvels at everything 

I just watch her 

Growing on me, growing in me

And I ponder how God must feel

For she’s utterly mesmerizing