David's Poem for West

I wasn't really sure where to post it, so here it is...

For West : Just Past Two and a Half
And sleeping in the car, not five feet from me
Keeping vigil against the horde of non-threatening bees
And other creepy crawlies that might sneak in her window
Where she semi-sits, snoring
Sunglasses on, fresh scrape on her chin
My charge, my duty, my love heaving in my chest
Unruly as a wet cat
Adding valour and virtue to all I see
And the greenery, below and above that blue sky
As perfect as a last held breath, she is
She is Stevens' Tennessee jar, orders all around her
The world performs at her sleepy feet, obedient and defined
I wish for her to know that what she teaches me
Though I know she will wake and I will disappoint, fail
Fail to understand her waking, shifting wants
Fail always but try to carry for her this
This girl who had in her belly, she says, a kitten, a puppy, a dog
and a snake and a tree and a ball and a flower ( part here is not
understandable but has something about "a swing" and
"laying the sky and the grass and no other words")
All her perceived life and the beauty she knows she carries inside her
And I will fail to remind her of this when she will forget
Her all-connectedness that leaves in its wake, what?
(Unclear here - "Then we advance (?) like rust??")
Why that's easy - you and me and one day her
Just past two and a half and without a wave of her hand
She orders the world like a garden we would never leave
If she and we were were given a choice
Which we are not.