While you sleep the little girl
you try so hard to hide
sneaks out and spreads her wings
across your delicate cheeks.
She opens your arms
and you stretch in a baby’s content,
releasing the twelve year old
pressures wound up by day.
We leave you
dreaming of butterfly kisses
on sun-lit beach days.
Hand in hand, we take flight
into the shadows of the moon.
We play for hours under the sumac
building homes for friendly fairies
and drinking blossom tea.
Until, the descending night passes
the rising sun as bits of color
dance around, telling us its time
to say our goodbyes.
The little girl I know so well
wipes my tears and says,
I know it hurts but, watch me
paint my next canvas.
We will find each other again.
©River Urke 2011
An old poem I wrote for my mother and me when my daughter was twelve.