For my daughter.

She carried me along on her skirt hem (though she knew it not) I held on tightly trying not to be seen or felt. A stow-away... I followed her life's steps quietly, I've soared high on her heels. Clutching by my heart  I've awed at her many triumphs. My daughter, she loved me always and even though I did not always 'belong' she carried me with her to the palaces and thrones of far lands where I silently listened and learnt. And it was she...my daughter, who took me with her (on her heart) and I loved her dearly, sweetly, but humbly for her soul forgot me not... even though I was... and am… so well worth forgetting. My daughter carries me like those clinging-barnacles on mammal flesh Yet she knows not that she does nor does she know how great she is or... how intently masterful ...or kind. She is the giant I follow... clinging on her skirt of life… I am there... holding on I am the barnacles breathing through her existance ... unworthy yet eager I adhere and cling content to follow upon her hem where  riding so proudly I watch  her swimming forward through this ocean of never ending waves.