Year with much more than 365 days

I don't know what to call it, its neither a poem nor a narration. There are no melodious rhymes here, there are no smooth strings tying the words together. It is just like your first year - playful, wishful, sloppy, casual & carefree are just few handful of expressions defining it. Its a peculiar tête-à-tête, where I'm speaking now but you'll respond after few years.

First time when I met you, you didn't arrive but your were there. We both were in different worlds, yours was small but sane. Few years down the line you'll come to know that what all I called you when we first met WAS ALL WRONG......

I was wrong to to call you a crescent moon,
when you are a universe for two.

I was wrong to call you  a blossoming bud
when you are the boundless fragrance across the gardens

I was wrong to call you a colorful butterfly
when you can hold all the colors of nature in your 2 inch smile.

I was wrong to call you a melodious chirping bird
when melody is synonymous to your presence itself.

I was wrong to call you a twinkling star
when unlike stars you can twinkle across the clock.

I was wrong to call you a bundle of Joy
when euphoria of your presence is beyond the horizons.

You've turned one year old today but for two you've turned the years. I'll not wish you a happy b'day today, you are a celebration each and every day.

Cya till we meet again in black ink over the white pixels.