Small, sweet girl,
Love the protection
You do not know you have.
Enjoy the California mountains
While you roam them;
Feel the cool rocks in your yard
While it is still your home
Walk in the newborn stream to cool your feet
Before you want to put them in heels.
Walk through the tall, dead grasses
And pretend you do not fear the snakes,
Until you want to walk the streets
And pretend you do not fear the men.
Let your blonde hair shine
Before it turns red from the fires you watch.
Maybe the weight you gain when you are much older
Will make up for what you deprived yourself of
When you are just a little older.
I would tell you not to hold on to Mom too tight,
So that you may not shatter when you learn
Not every good girl has a good mommy.
But I can not blame you for holding on to the things you know.
She is just one that will sting of painful nostalgia.
But that will be for another poem,
Another letter that I write to you sometime;
A little older, hopefully a little wiser