A/N: this was published as poetry recently and not recieved well. (not that any one said anything... at all... ) so I rethought this and retitled to be a more accurate reflection of what this is and why it's brought here today-
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On Her 19th Birthday
When she was very little, I remember how she'd reach for me.
She'd stretch out her baby arms, as far as they would reach, anxiously requesting me to fill them with my love. With affection she would pat my cheek, and her tiny hand would so easily slip into mine.
After she learned how to tie her shoelaces, she was all ponytail and skinned knees,
and still, would clasp her arms around my neck and grasp my hand to venture across the street.
How many giggles and squeals of delight has she now counted? How many tears of true sorrow has she embraced?
Still and forever, she returns to hug my neck, clutch my hand, and fill me with her love before she bounds out the door-
Oh! How I will one day miss these daily reminders!
My task will be complete -her outstretched baby arms, a mere whisp of memory...
The flash of her smile will always bring me joy, for always and evermore she is owner of my heart.
-If I take a moment to be still, I can feel her lttle hand in mine, when I close my eyes.
**note 2005: if I close my eyes, I STILL can!**