There she sits, my little girl, before her mirror
Glowing and flushing with excitement,
Why so many women and hours to prettify a flower?
Is she thinking of me now, at this very moment?

She will know I’m right by her side,
To give her heart away to her chosen one,
Since her birth I woke for her every little whimper,
Will he care for her as I’ve done?

She’ll always be mine, even if I give her hand away,
We’ve shown her what’s family, humility and love,
And that she will pass on to create one of her own,
Our legacy of selfless love would carry on…

Does he understand his privilege, what he’s taking from me?
I was the only superhero she called for when demons chased
Can he better me, in loving her despite her whims?
Silly thought, yet in me specious contempt fills, will I be replaced?

Her kindness will touch them all,
In her admirable strength lies my pride,
Her sleepy whimpers unalike from her bridal fidgets,
Soon he’ll learn from all her perfections, she’s like me and always mine.

The time has come, she rises,
The short walk from her mirror to the wedding stage felt like forever,
A vacuum fills my mind when she turns around,
At last, the sight of her adorned in flowers…





4 thoughts on “Precious

  1. Greetings Bladenomics,

    How beautiful and ripe with honest, human emotion is this poem! I feel it, imbibe it, although I have not a daughter, but a son. I feel it, even though my mother passed on before my childhood was done. I had no wedding. There was the justice of the peace, a judge in chambers to speak my forever after…that reached as far as, perhaps, fifteen years. I choose not to remember specifics.

    “Does he understand his privilege, what he’s taking from me?
    I was the only superhero she called for when demons chased.”

    This line resonates with me. I will hold it dear, and near, for my granddaughter.

    Much love,


    p.s. I believe you’ve given me an idea for a blog post. 🙂

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