Last NaPoMo post: A daughter’s laughter

She is a tender age for thoughts so deep

as those that sweep across her eyes,

furrow her brows and

pinch the corners of her mouth.

It’s as if she grows flowers in her mind

that must be tended carefully,

weeded and watered,

protected above all else.

She guards her garden with such great fervor

I sometimes wonder at her grace,

the instant laughter

that crinkles her eyes and nose.

Sometimes that laughter bubbles as freely

as spring flowers on sunny days,

bobbing in the grass,

watching for my own wide smile.

It’s something that I never can resist

and I find myself laughing too,

forgetting the anst

she endures to laugh so well.