Little Lady

There have been days

when I swear

I am watching her grow

before my very eyes

 sprouting taller 

like waterlilies opening, reaching fast

 as the sun peeks over the edge 

of their little pond.

And flower she is

and flower she does

and though most days

she is still the girl that plays in the doll house

sometimes,

sometimes....

Sometimes I see wisdom open behind her eyes

as wings that unfold

not yet knowing the lift and soar

but soon to know that

and so much more

I hold her in my gaze

willing her to fix in time 

to stay...

stay in that place

that lets her measure her beauty in freckles.

I know better than to ask

that she stay

forever at the edge of womanhood

but, perhaps that those eyes

filled with possibility

never empty.