Monica E. Smith

Monica E. Smith

Tuesday, August 18, 2009


In the spring
When she was a child
I wanted her to be a ballerina
So she put on a tutu                                                                             
And toe shoes
And danced for me

As the heat of summer rose
With light of day
She feverishly wanted to grow up
To be like me
And I wanted her
To be like me

When it was autumn
And the winds blew strong
She dressed in jeans and sweatshirts
And a Superman hat
And I told her
Not to fly so fast

Now, with winter near
I bid the passing of days
Alone to freeze
For she is, at long last,
Becoming who she was created to be
And I want her, simply, to be

("Ballerina" adapted from Days of Fine Gray Ash, by Monica E. Smith)

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