For Chelsea

I know an adorable little girl name Chelsea.
She’s the daughter of a friend of mine.
The little girl loves me so much.
She loves me more than she loves her real father.
Her love for me is unbelievable.
Nobody has ever seen anything like this.

I can’t even begin to express the way I love her.
She gets so excited when she sees me.
Her little feet move so fast when she’s capering.
She told everyone that I was her daddy.
How I wish her words were true.
I hope jealousy of me hasn’t filled her dad’s heart.

She seriously wants me to adopt her.
When she’s spending a day at my home,
She shows conspicuous happiness.
And she cries when it’s time to leave.
She never spoke about her mom or her siblings.
This is something I don’t understand.

She was a smart child when she was two years old.
Her mom taught her “Itsy Bitsy Spider.”
However, she could only say, “Itty, bitty, pye da.”
When she’s counting from one to five,
She grins and says, “Wa, tui, twee, foy, fy!”
Every time she says it, I ask her to say it again.

Whenever I see her, I’m deeply hurt.
It does more harm than good when I hug her.
She’s standing right beside me,
I’m holding her affectionately in my arms,
But in my mind, I don’t have her.
I become sad because she’s not my daughter.