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Literature Text
Dear daughter-I-do-not-have-yet,
You will be my perfect. You will be my proudest moments in one small person. You will be made in love, or maybe anger, or maybe even desperation. But that won't matter. What matters is what you will be made into.
You will have Daddy's hair and his nose, and my eyes and my smile, the smile that happens not because someone with a camera told you to, but because you're genuinely happy. But you will have your very own heart and will be full of all the things that give you your you-ness. Whether you sing in the bath or make Valentines for everyone in your class or give your last homemade chocolate chip cookie to the boy sitting alone at recess.
I will write you poems and stories about how you are my miracle. I will read them to you sometimes, just to remind you. As you grow, not a day will go by that I'm not thankful for everything you are. You will be dazzling and beautiful and brilliant and compassionate and playful and curious and all of the things I was too scared to be.
You will learn how to dance before you can walk. I will teach you numbers by counting the stars in the sky. I will teach you colors from the world around you – "look, the sky is Mommy's favorite color today." You will absorb everything - the sounds, the lights - through your skin like a balm.
When you are born, your Daddy will cry because he's never seen anything so beautiful. He may not love me forever, but he will never have any doubts about you. "Look," he'll say the very first time he holds you, showing you this overwhelming, magnificent world outside the window, "all this is yours."
Growing up is not an easy thing. But remember that it's okay to not know. It's okay to just take it as it comes. People will come and go, and make you laugh and break your heart. There might be someone who crumples your smile like a used tissue. But promise me you'll never stop loving, no matter how much it hurts.
You will be my warrior, my brave flower. When people pour lies and hurtful words into your ears, I will come along with a sieve and replace them with what is true.
You will make the world a better place, simply by being a part of it. You will take the sunny days and collect them for rainy ones. You will prove to your daddy what love is. You will discover every day that life is going to be confusing and scary and wonderful, but I know you'll go through it all with a smile, the smile that happens not because someone with a camera told you to, but because you're genuinely happy.
When pulling petals, remember that the answer will always be "she loves me."
You will be my perfect. You will be my proudest moments in one small person. You will be made in love, or maybe anger, or maybe even desperation. But that won't matter. What matters is what you will be made into.
You will have Daddy's hair and his nose, and my eyes and my smile, the smile that happens not because someone with a camera told you to, but because you're genuinely happy. But you will have your very own heart and will be full of all the things that give you your you-ness. Whether you sing in the bath or make Valentines for everyone in your class or give your last homemade chocolate chip cookie to the boy sitting alone at recess.
I will write you poems and stories about how you are my miracle. I will read them to you sometimes, just to remind you. As you grow, not a day will go by that I'm not thankful for everything you are. You will be dazzling and beautiful and brilliant and compassionate and playful and curious and all of the things I was too scared to be.
You will learn how to dance before you can walk. I will teach you numbers by counting the stars in the sky. I will teach you colors from the world around you – "look, the sky is Mommy's favorite color today." You will absorb everything - the sounds, the lights - through your skin like a balm.
When you are born, your Daddy will cry because he's never seen anything so beautiful. He may not love me forever, but he will never have any doubts about you. "Look," he'll say the very first time he holds you, showing you this overwhelming, magnificent world outside the window, "all this is yours."
Growing up is not an easy thing. But remember that it's okay to not know. It's okay to just take it as it comes. People will come and go, and make you laugh and break your heart. There might be someone who crumples your smile like a used tissue. But promise me you'll never stop loving, no matter how much it hurts.
You will be my warrior, my brave flower. When people pour lies and hurtful words into your ears, I will come along with a sieve and replace them with what is true.
You will make the world a better place, simply by being a part of it. You will take the sunny days and collect them for rainy ones. You will prove to your daddy what love is. You will discover every day that life is going to be confusing and scary and wonderful, but I know you'll go through it all with a smile, the smile that happens not because someone with a camera told you to, but because you're genuinely happy.
When pulling petals, remember that the answer will always be "she loves me."
Literature
One Sip
Since that night, I have believed in love at first song.
You sang.
Darling, you stirred your voice into the coffeehouse scents;
It carried notes of inspiration and the flavor of your soul.
You smiled.
Your words trickled down my throat, and I savored their warmth.
There was no bitterness, no dregs- just your heart poured out.
You stood.
I abandoned my cup to follow, “hello” scalding my tongue.
Literature
Writer's block.
A thirteen-year-old poet,
Whispers frolicking among her tongue
As a ballet dancer across a stage.
What to write, oh, what to write…
Her fingers wrapped around a pencil,
Gently tickling the page
With a language between herself
And her imagination.
Thoughts race through her mind,
One,
Two,
Three,
Quick!
Three,
Two,
One,
Gone.
Frozen hands on a silver clock
Turning moments into
D r e a d f u l h o u r s .
What to write, oh, what to write…
Crickets stop their chirping,
Birds start to sing.
Five thirty in the morning,
And not a single word on paper.
What to write, oh, what to write…
She begins to scribble across
Literature
You Don't Know Your Daughter At All
Just because she is no longer in a cradle
Does not mean that your baby wont fall
And if you think that her smile means she is happy
Then you don’t know your daughter at all
On arriving home from school she runs up the stairs
And locks herself away in her room
It’s so easy to think that it’s just teenage angst
That will pass in time and be gone soon
Perhaps you assume that it is just boy trouble
A romance that will soon be forgot
Yes, maybe her problems are just a passing phase
But then again what if they are not
What if they’re deep rooted in the parental soil
That you’ve been failing to cultivate
As she grow
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In answer to the prompt: "What are you here for?"
I wrote this in fifteen minutes.
I know there are cliches and such, but it's one of the most sincere pieces I've written in a long time.
I'm going to be an awesome mom someday, you guys.
Questions.
Is this relateable?
Any cliches I should get rid of?
How does this piece make you feel?
Critique here.
I wrote this in fifteen minutes.
I know there are cliches and such, but it's one of the most sincere pieces I've written in a long time.
I'm going to be an awesome mom someday, you guys.
Questions.
Is this relateable?
Any cliches I should get rid of?
How does this piece make you feel?
Critique here.
© 2012 - 2024 IndigoSkyes
Comments45
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That is beautiful.