Daughter,
The world will not always be kind to you. You will grow up with stories of the boogeyman, of the wolves that wait outside your door, of the princesses that never get saved, rotting away in their towers of marble. I wish I could protect you against every monster that enters your head.
But I can't, because you are not mine. You are your own person, and you will make mistakes. You will fumble and fall and bruise. You will meet people who build you up, and others who will try to tear you down. And through it all, I will always be here to clean your wounds.
These words are for you. They will always be for you.
Love, Mama
YOU ARE READING
In Bloom
Poésie"FRAGILE, delicate, broken- words that I hope you never become." A letter from a mother to her future daughter. [#71 in Poetry 1.9.16]
