1 poem
by Sheridan Baker
Century High School
The Introduction
I’m three (and a half)
I just got home,
so did she.
Finally
I’ve been waiting forever.
She has a lot of hair
like a whole scope of coffee colored noodles on her head.
Her face is kinda squishy.
She’s tiny. Tinier than I expected.
The same size as the football dad carries around on Sundays.
I was never this small, right mom?
Apparently, I was.
Apparently, I’m big enough to hold her if I sit down.
I’ve never held a real baby before,
they’re like little heaters.