These are the gifts I was given at birth:
my father’s high cheekbones, my auntie’s wide girth.
Legs that are solid and a brain that is sound,
a head that’s too big and a stomach too round.
From my mother, a funny bone and a fine wit
in sharing my life by writing of it.
A talent for rhyme and a need to be telling
stories original, tight and compelling.
A thirst for travel, squelched in my dad,
allowed me adventures he rarely had.
A love of babies and a wicked humor
that didn’t go wasted in this baby boomer.
I’m forever grateful that I came to be,
thanks to those genes that created me.
With both foibles and talents, I’m not perfect for sure,
but all that I am, I have come to endure.
I’ve lived to an age where I appreciate
all of the gifts that I’ve come to relate.
Here I am, the next link in the family queue,
and what they shared with me, I now share with you.
Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is “to write a poem in which you muse on the gifts you received at birth.”