She asks where babies come from so

I tell her I wished her down from up

above a star so bright.

Eleventeen stopped being a

number. Cherub cheeks replaced by the smaller

version of her future self.

Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy,

still shape her reality, but one day

too soon

they also will be a happy memory of when she was

younger

innocent

needing me

and I will miss the now that has faded into

remember when?

She asks me where babies come from so

I tell her I wished her down from up

above a star so bright. Science and biology

can kiss my ass because no matter what she learns

as she grows into the older version of her

present self, I will have always

wished her true.

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