I Write For Her

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I watch her closely--

As her smile broadens,

Her dark curls caress her blushing cheeks

And her eyes carefully roam beds of flowers.

She reaches down,

Plucks a handful of daisies,

And presses them gently to her nose.

She is Innocence

She is Laughter

She is Youth

Her garden is hope and bliss.

It blooms with possibility and optimism.

There are no clouds in her skies. Not a trace of darkness.

Speaking gently to her flowers,

She tells them of their beauty.

And turns her face upwards to bathe

In the sweetness of the sunshine.

In the sweetness of the world.

And as I watch more closely

I realize she is who I used to be.

 

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