Sassy Angel              

All day she's loud-mouthed, sassy,
ten years old and, more than ever,
one terrible tween.
A boy is helping in the yard,
a neighbor, twelve, fun, funky,
with beautiful eyes.
She reigns me in with glares.

Once he leaves,
I have her water the plants,
including the tiny bush with a
miraculously huge rose,
a few petals already fallen
like satin angels by midsummer.

Suddenly, crisis.
The whole blossom is gone.
I say, don't worry; 
the wind could have done it,
or rain.
But knowing how I cherished it,
she refused consolation.
Her true self, the perennial self,
bloomed in fallen tears.

I'm so sorry, Mommy.
Again I try and reassure.
She is going to be like me,
frail stranger in a frail world, 
Petals will fall –
hers, the world's --
with nothing, really,
to water things down.

Copyright Julie K. Shavin 2009