“I don’t wear mascara,”
I remember you once said,
“It makes me look like a daisy.”
Is that statement now dead?
For now you do paint your face,
And wear your clothes like the others.
In a sea of dainty daisies,
You appear like just another.
But a common daisy you are not.
Your talents make you stand tall.
You are a beautiful lily,
Sprouting to be admired by all.
Perhaps you are not a flower,
Rooted in the world’s clay,
But a white heron
Who rises with the day,
Skimming across the river –
Your canvas, your stage –
Wings painted by art and melody,
Gifts you possess beyond your age.
The pale flowers watch you from afar,
Vanity fades, leaving nothing but broken stems.
But you soar higher with the wind
Your feathers lasting gems.
I wrote this three years ago for my cousin. In honor of her visit this past week, I've decided to post it. That, and my writing this past week just seems a tad dry. Oh well, you never know when inspiration will strike! But I am proud of this one.