Curly Top. For my grandson, who spins sunshine with every curl. He runs through the room like a giggling breeze, With chocolatey fingers and grass on his knees. A whirl of joy with curls untamed, A heart full of mischief that won’t be blamed. His hair’s a halo of bounce and spin, Each twist a tale, each strand a grin. Sunlight dances where his ringlets play, And giggles bloom in his wake all day. He asks a thousand whys and more,Then hides his socks behind the door. He builds big dreams from Lego blocks, Then cuddles close in mismatched socks. His laugh is loud, his hugs are tight, His cheeks are kissed a dozen times a night. He’s chaos, charm, and sticky toes, With love that grows and grows and grows. And when the world feels far too fast, He’s the moment I want to hold and clasp. My curly-top boy, my giggle, my grace. You’ve spun pure magic through this place.