Five thousand, eight hundred forty days
I have loved you, and taught you,
And worried about you, and cheered you.
And I bear some shame to admit
I have been angry and shocked
And sad and hurt
And embarrassingly, I confess
I have shed tears of joy and pride
As I have watched you grow.
But most recently, when you turned sixteen,
And I had no money, no gift to give you,
To celebrate this milestone of my child’s,
The grace with which you forgave me,
And reassured me, and gave me your love
For at sixteen, although still my little girl,
You are a young woman,
Secure in herself
And generous of spirit.
So I will shame myself yet again
With the shedding of many tears
Upon my proud breast
For you, my sweet sixteen.