No flower ever grew from rocks or foam
but that which little girls are made of.
The spices fresh, the sugar brown;
no ugly duckling but a dove.

And on you grew, though I know not
if changes to yourelf you sought.
I do know now that you are grown.
In you I see not chair but throne.

If you looked on as now I do
with pride; no fear I have for you.
Thus far the trouble you have seen
has turned you not to fool but queen.

You know and love the lot He gave
and Giver love; and you He'll save.
You take with open arms the life
no one expected; love, not strife.

Now eighteen years you've been His child,
and in that time, much joy today.
You beat the odds, it's safe to say.
(I hear you've driven some boys wild:-))

I look back now on all you've done--
what is there to regret?
The choices made are yourself
a better version I've not met.

The words do not exist for me
to properly tell you
what you will be, have been and done
But this I've tried to do.