For My Daughter

Impossibly curved silhouette.
A touch of gossamer in a granite world.
Your dandelion puff of breath touches my face.
The smell of innocence, hidden in vanilla, lingers.

Forever sparkles in your eyes.
And is echoed in mine.
Generations to come, reading winnie the pooh.

My calloused hand reaches.
Needing to capture this piece of time.
I caress that softly turned cheek.
Aching with the fierceness of a mother's love.


(c) Deborah Pittman All Rights Reserved

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