Flight 

Shrugging, her stained-glass eyes looked back down, quietly dismissing even my slight intrusion. There was frost on the ground, and she was out of time. She was never unkind.

She glanced up, her tender face a mask, nostrils slightly flared as if aware of a fire burning somewhere in the distance.

"Have you decided?" I casually asked, though my heart fluttered against my frame 

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My love breaks open, spills out into the night. Trembling, I learned to let her go... my daughter. I watched the way one must from the ground when a bird takes flight, rising up to see the world in a way I will never know.

I will be here waiting, always the place she can call home. 

It took me so many years to learn what I didn't understand when I first held her in my arms. She is not mine. She is her own. Someday soon, yet far and away, she'll learn this truth, catch her breath, and carry on.

My thoughts telescoped backward, remembering her first butterfly movements, a reminder of life's uncertainties and unimaginable beauty. I watch her now, her dark hair tumbling over squared shoulders. She is so strong. Isn't it the way it should be, this fierce love song passed on down the line?