She Flies...

She Flies

My daughter is growing so fast-
She thinks she's ready to leave home.
and I have to let her go as gracefully as I can-


I found this old poem I wrote nine years ago
I know she'll be fine.

School doors burst open
children pour into the play yard
and scatter like crows.
Racing, calling to eachother,
their words lost in the storm of voices
a tempest of noise.

My daughter runs for the climber
“watch me mom, see what I can do!”
she calls again and again,
from the climber, the slide, the ladder, the rings.

She’s five and there’s nothing she can’t do.
She runs so fast I am amazed-
her hair streams across her face, into her eyes.
She runs looking over her shoulder laughing.

I want to call to her, 'be careful!
watch where you’re going!"
I just hold my breath and smile...
I wave to show her I’m proud
of how fast she can run,
how high she can climb
how far she can jump.

Her face is alive and she runs faster.
I hold my breath and smile-she doesn’t fall.
I remember waiting at the bottom of the slide
to give her a soft landing everytime
(come on, it’s ok- I’m here, I’m here ot catch you.)

Now she races around the playground on feet so swift
and I know I won’t always be there to catch her.
So I smile and wave and hold my breath,
and she doesn’t fall- she flies.


So I guess I just have to hold my breath and smile and wave and let her know I'll always be here for her- she'll always have a soft place to land.