for my granddaughter*
Dew drops with the
scent of wild flowers
young adolescent
with a touch of maturity
craving for attention
whirling throughout
the days as a ballerina
singing the high and the
low notes as a young
Calas still to bloom
Will the Diva one day prevail?
only future can tell
sometimes quick eruptions
of rebellion with stamping feet
and the slam of a door
easy smiles changing with
easy tears, life can be so
confusing at that age
but no matter what problem
you can always find shelter
in the warm wrapping of
my embrace
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