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I gifted my nephew a book.

He’s going to admire the colors and the happy faces inside
while the words are read to him by someone more senior.
He will point out the pumpkins, the kittens, the rainbows
and smile ear to ear with excitement and laughter.
He will reach out to turn the cardboard pages
before the sentence is even finished.
He will bounce up and down on the lap of the reader
while it gets closer and closer to the end.

I gifted my nephew a book.

One about how he’s the apple of my eye, the stars in my sky, the pumpkin to my pie.
One about how I will be with him always.
That our lives are forever intertwined.
His purity is admirable. 
He embraces the rain, he sees no gray.
His innocence is peaceful
as he can sniff out what is true and avoid what is not.
His naivety is blissful
as he associates me with love and play, comfort and care.
He knows nothing within the deeper levels of my being,
but he still loves me.

I gifted my nephew a book.
A promise to him that I will be by his side, endlessly.

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