Mazes, Dreams, and Strawberry Fields

When I have a daughter,
I want her to know that the world
is her classroom,
where I teach,
and she learns.

I would want her to know
that sometimes the moon
is what casts the shadows
under her eyes,
but that it is also what adds
the blue glow to your skin,
when the night is too heavy to see.

I want her to understand
that the stars are her guides
from one challenge to the next.
That she will jump from one
to another and then over and over again
making her way through the sky
as if it were a maze
in a child's coloring book.

I want her to listen to the rain
and I want her to dance in it,
to feel it on her face and know
that the water is her emotions,
that it can be tears of sorrow
but that tears of joy
are always just a boat ride away.

I want her to know that flowers
are the voice prouting from
within her and each petal
is a little peice of her story
and that each petal is painted
with the words that form the sentences
that will someday sit upon the pages
of her personal diary.

I want her to watch the
birds as they fly freely
across the sky and as she blinks
from the sun in her eyes,
I want her to see that
the birds are her dreams
flying into the clouds
where there are no walls,
no railroad blocking the way,
and no limitations causing self-doubt.

I want her to close her eyes
and smell the tart scent
of the strawberry field
and I want her to know
that fragrance embodies
all of the beautiful mistakes
she will make along the way,
but that if she only reaches down
and bites into a strawberry,
then all of her humiliation would
dissipate into the summer breeze.

I want her to know that no matter what
I will always be there for her
and when the day comes
that she finally understands
everything I taught her
and everything she learned,
I hope I am there
to catch and to dance with
the misty tendrils of gold
that will be snaking off of her and
wrapping around the very essence
of her naked soul.