Sunday, March 15, 2015

Little Glass Doll

My little glass doll
with a mind of her own.
No longer holds my hand,
she says she can do it alone.

I hold my breath
as she begins, her small hands gripping.
My arms stretched out, shaky,
in case of her tiny frame slipping.

But she doesn't even know I'm there.
She doesn't need a hand.
She's daring as she climbs on
leaving the soil, leaving land.

My entire being is on alert.
My fragile little girl has no fear.
And as she reaches the top
I shed a mother's tear.

My little glass doll
isn't as fragile as she seems.
But I will still always be there,
even if just to support her dreams.

(Written 3.15.15)


  1. Beautifully written! Written from a mothers heart!

  2. Wonderful tribute to letting go, but still being available.