My Daughter

I'm sure I had a daughter in my past.

I can feel her presence, sometimes.
When I think of baby things, I know it's her things I think of.
When people talk about the joys of having a daughter- I know,
because I had you.

I can't help but think of your beautiful long hair,
each strand perfect,
and your cheeks soft and chubby.
Sleeping in my arms, you had candy dreams.

And I remember your first brave smile as you smiled up at me,
as you stepped into school alone.
I remember that sweet touch that handed me a share of candy.
I remember a sweet little girl, twirling around in her long, thick, golden embroidered skirt, trying to look grown up.

I was just mesmerized the way you put on your make-up as you got ready to go out with your friends.
You waved me goodbye as I watched you drive out.

And I remember the wet napkin as I wiped away your tears and your cold.

And tea.
I feel we have a bond like no other.

The way your eyes would plead me for an extra book, an extra hair-clip, an extra sticker sheet.

I remember your wedding day.
You were marring the man of your dreams,
I couldn't believe my daughter was going to be someone's wife.
And I was hoping for her own baby girl.
Those beautiful gold and diamond necklaces your wore,
the lace and embroidery on your bridal-ware...
It was fascinating.

Dear,
if I meet you in the street now,
I know I will recognize you.
Will you remember me?