Saturday, 21 May 2011

Qué será.

She's so intense, so deep and complex.
Ever so often, I'm left perplexed.
She's taking on more than her little palm can hold,
not quite 6, and far from ready to go.

"How will I live when I grow up?", she worries.
Here, let me get that....take you're time. We're in no hurry.
How can I tell her so she will believe?
Our lives are for living. And the living is free.

I cower under her annihilating ambition.
Undeterred, she continues on her mission.
"I want to be the best pianist, I want to be a painter,
 I want to be a boss too, or will that come later?"

Shush, my baby. Slow down. I'm here.
Don't join the race yet. You're still holding my finger.
"When will I practice, how will I get better?"
She knows too much.....can't reach her. 
Could I actually have been her mentor?

"Teach me the numbers tomorrow once more,
I'm still confused with 14 and 40, like before." 
Good night, sleep tight, the morning is nigh.
"What will I be, Mummy?"
You will be just fine.

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