She smiles
She puts
Her open hand in mine
What once was small and fragile,
Soft
Now strong
And always sacred.

Laughing hard
Those grown-up eyes
I think
I hope
They understand

Little girl
No matter where I go
or when I dare return
you'll always be 8
to me.

07/27/2007

Author's Note: Like the little sister I never had. It was so good to see her today. So good not to cry around him, until the very, very end at least. These poems lately are tidbits. I can't seem to get a good stream of consciousness going, but today felt good, and I needed to mark that.

Posted on 07/27/2007
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