by Victoria Brake
Little feet that grow so fast.
Little cups that must be filled.
Little dresses, spin and twirl.
Little hair bows, little curls.
Time is fleeting, oh so fast.
What was just here, is now the past.
Little hands that needed me.
Now need me less, I start to see.
She ties her shoes and combs her hair.
Picks out her clothes, knows what to wear.
She grabs her doll, heads to the door.
I smile, she’s still a little girl.
We’re at the park, we play pretend.
She tells me I’m her favorite friend.
Who, what, when, where, why and how?
She needs to know these things right now.
So full of life, so full of love.
This gift sent from the Lord above.
She’s older now, my little girl.
She’s learning more about the world.
Each night I ask the Lord above,
There’s so much that she needs to know,
and I’m still learning as I go.
Please, Lord… PLEASE help me get this right.
I beg, as I lose sleep at night.
Precious soul, undefiled.
Lord, guide me as I raise this child.
What just happened? Can it be?
My little girl is now a teen.
No more dolls, and no more bows.
That happened fast, where did time go?
Help me to listen patiently,
as I instruct her, Lord guide me.
May my words be gentle and kind.
Her time at home, will soon be gone.
It sure did fly, but it was fun.
Her bags are packed and by the door.
She’s off to face a whole new world.
It seems like only yesterday,
as I would rock her… she would say.
Just one more story, pretty please?
Please would you read one more to me?
Then I would tuck her in her bed,
and kiss her on her precious head.
No more ballet, no more tee ball.
No more measurements on the wall.
Today she’ll leave this cozy nest,
and spread her wings, and give her best.
Five years later, long white dress.
My heart is full, I am so blessed.
My little girl, a woman now.
So full of grace, I am so proud.
A handsome man, I’ll call my son.
I’ve prayed for him, since she was one.
Thank you Lord, for hearing me.
For strengthening our family tree.
Two young lives will now be one.
A new love story has begun.
Two years later, by her bed.
The doctor says, he sees a head.
A baby girl, wrapped up in pink.
My daughter reaches her to me.
I close my eyes, and smell her hair.
The tears they fall, without a care.
I lay her on my daughter’s chest,
the years ahead will be her best.
Hair to comb and tears to wipe.