She is starting to ‘get ready’ with care.
My little girl, not so little any more.
Things need to be done with her hair,
Before she will head out the door.
Fights over unbrushed hair are now flown.
Mismatched clothes a thing of the past.
She stands in the mirror on her own.
Checking her skin and her lips and her lash.
Lord bless us, no makeup just yet!
Just the early priming and pruning.
Still childhood has died a small death,
When she straightens her hair every morning.
Grow up not too fast my dear girl.
Don’t run so soon, or fast for that day.
When makeup and clothes and curls
Replace dirty, rough tumble play.
Let me hold your dear face in my hands,
Let me etch every line in my heart.
Our time seems to run like the sands.
As you and your childishness part.