Filling The Sky
Morning sweeps across the window, bleeding her room with yellow light. Eleven years old already. My daughter's beauty could fill the sky. I bend to wake her, but, hesitate when I notice the supreme length of her body. Like a dandelion she has grown, so wild and tall. I had forgotten. How, one day, she would grow right out of me. How, on some fragrant night or crisp, winter day, the world will call to her. And she will go, like all daughters go, away from me to meet it. © Lisa Zaran
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