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About the Poem

I am 33 years old and my daughter is 15. I didn't realize letting go of her would be so difficult. I also had no idea that her growing up would mean my growing up as well. Surprisingly enough she teaches me as much as I teach her. This poem is a vision of feelings to come, things we haven't yet experienced but know will come soon enough. Yes, there are things we can't change, inevitable things, sometimes sad things, this poem is about one of those things, growing up and letting go.

Painted Portraits Of Sapphire Skies

in a corner of her room
she'd sometimes sit
by a window
sharing her sunshine
with me
wearing a tiny smock
painting portraits of sapphire skies
bright yellow three bedroom houses
white picket fences
and rainbow sunrise foregrounds

first days of school
she sits on the bus
alone
in tears
reaches out for me
we cry
through glass
I blow a kiss
simulate a hug
and promise
I'll always be here

girls softball team tryouts
her dad's in another state
a single mom
she respects hard work
we catch
she runs
plays ball!
I applaud
she's proud
"thanks mom"
team MVP that year

first boyfriend
sad good-byes
a broken heart
lengthy cries
she needs me
I'll always be here
I assure her
she smiles
and welcomes a hug

lying on her bed
staring into nothingness
the phone on her ear
she doesn't hold my hand anymore
crosses the street alone
everything I do embarrasses her
and when I talk she barely hears me

make-up and hair
fingernails and polish
dances and friends
dresses and pins
how I'd like to see a movie with you
talk about boys
and reminisce underneath
portraits of sapphire skies
bright yellow three-bedroom houses
white picket fences
and rainbow sunrise foregrounds

prettier and more independent
sometimes arguing with me
right and wrong
I, not wanting her to end up like me
I push and pray
that she be blessed
under a brighter star

packing up the used car
I bought her
away at college
a young woman
her first time alone
maybe she'll join a sorority
or poet's society
yes, I hope and pray
no one hurts her
changes her good nature
or humble ways

"no time to call"
she always tells me
I'll be home for the holidays "mom"

sometimes when brave enough
I look back
walk cautiously
down the corridor
into her old room
where she painted portraits
and colorful dreams
of growing up in the light
in a tiny corner of her room
I sit
by a window
looking for sunshine
inhaling the scent of the unused place
a tiny smock in my hand
painting portraits
of sapphire skies
bright yellow three bedroom houses
white picket fences
rainbow sunrise foregrounds
and a tiny little girl in pig tails running through the greenest of
grass
underneath the light
of our sapphire skies
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© 1999 Alicia Vasquez Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you.

9 Visitor Comments

Annita
Brought back so many wonderful memories.
Inna
This poem truly touched me. My daughter is not yet out of her ponytail and painting picket fences stage, but I invisioned what it would be like when she grows older. Thank you for allowing me to feel all the emotions you put into this poem.
Stef
This is a REALLY good poem and it was very true to life as i have a 16 year old brother and he is the exact same as the daughter in the poem
Jasmine
wow, i miss my mom! I'm in a dorm far from home when I read this. I guess I'll call mom up and see how she's doing. Boy, am I touched!
Gia
Beautiful,it shows life is a journey not a destination. I am a mother, I and hindsight is 20/20. Congratulations from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for sharing your feelings.
Sharon
A lovely, touching poem which tugs at the heart of a mother. Such a poignant description of growing up. Thank you.
Erika
I really love the detail and emotion that the author put into this poem. This is a great poem and I think it shows the feeling a lot of parents have (when their kids grow up.)
Jessica
Brought tears to my eyes!
Lynn
I have an only child, girl also. She'll be 27 on Monday 2/19. I can relate to the beauty this poem relates. It was beautifully written.

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