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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