Your flushed, wrinkled face looks up at me as you yell.
You are wrapped in a blanket of baby girl pastel.
A look of recognition appears as I hush and coo;
My little daughter, Sara, you’re absolutely brand new.

It’s the first day of fifth grade.
Your lips are smothered in a pink lemonade shade.
Your coral colored shirt makes you stand out.
I wave from the sidewalk, and see your defiant cherry pout.

Thirteen years old and you’re growing faster now.
You still need me; I’m just not sure how.
Bubblegum pop blasts from your room;
The excitement of growing up is now in full bloom.

I watch you walk in from your very first date;
I mentally note that you’re twenty minutes late.
My anger subsides when I see your bliss;
The blush of your cheeks tells me you’ve had your first kiss!

It’s now four years later; time for the big senior dance.
I see your carnation corsage as I steal a last glance.
You’re all grown up now, but to me
My little daughter, Sara, you will always be.