Watching your little girl play so carefree,
you think one day
I hope I can be
just like that.
But once upon a time you
were already a child too,
twirling and dancing under a twilight sky,
reaching for a mother’s steady hand
and knowing it would be there.
It hits you right where you stand:
Your time hasn’t gone.
It’s just moved on,
come full circle like the bright pink moon.
And like the moon,
it will turn again soon.
The well will never run dry
of daughters made mothers,
of mothers and daughters and the love they share,
heavy as a whole heart and light as air.