My bright and shiny little girl
with dark smiling eyes and yellow curls
who learned to talk before she walked
Who lifts sorrow
like an offering to joy
who waits
and gives and gives-- and gives again
to everyone whose path she's crossed
It didn't matter
Yes, it did...
Those bride's maid dresses
never fit
Made for tiny friends and frames of dreams
a day to hang a life on...
For others always
She made their days
She spent herself
Not telling tears
of sausage dress
she could never wear
"What were they thinking?"
"Maid of honor" she became
--in name only
She stands aside of honor by design
Awaiting honor to grace her
in its own time
The name Phoebe means bright and shiny one. She is the tiny child in the poem, "Yellow Waking Mother."
Did I say that I adore her?
Yesterday, her love gave her the ring
Birds and angels in the heavens are not enough...
today, to sing!