What I'll Tell My Little Girl

September 21, 2015 Written By Medha Chowdhury

‘Tell me a story, Ma.’

A little voice whispered happily in my ear.

I awoke with a start,

Hastily wiping away a surprised tear.

Somewhere between the pages, my mind had wandered to sleep

Unfurling dreams never spoken of,

The ones buried deep.

Twenty two, not maternal in the least

Yet my soul had sighed, throwing all into a whirl.

For I couldn’t stop thinking

About the million things I would tell My Little Girl.

She would be small, at first I guess.

Sparkling innocence, letting Laughter spill.

Maybe She’ll have a big heart,

Maybe it’ll learn  to beat louder still.

Beauty or Brains?

My baby shouldn’t need to decide.

The fire in her thoughts or the twinkle in her eye,

May lightning strike the ones who tell them to hide.

Fairytales are  what she’ll be made of.

She would be her own Princess Charming.

Her own Knight in battle-worn armour.

My Warrior born to eternal Sunshine,

Born to those starry skies at Midnight hour.

Maybe one day, She’ll come across these

Lines drunk on Hope, laced with a strange Love.

The words I wanted to tell Her

Sprinked with Angel-dust from the heavens above.

From the Mother-Who-Wasn’t to the Daughter-Who-May-Be,

Make your Mama proud,

Shine bright.

Make the Darkness flee.

Image Source

 

What I'll Tell My Little Girl

September 21, 2015 Written By Medha Chowdhury

‘Tell me a story, Ma.’

A little voice whispered happily in my ear.

I awoke with a start,

Hastily wiping away a surprised tear.

Somewhere between the pages, my mind had wandered to sleep

Unfurling dreams never spoken of,

The ones buried deep.

Twenty two, not maternal in the least

Yet my soul had sighed, throwing all into a whirl.

For I couldn’t stop thinking

About the million things I would tell My Little Girl.

She would be small, at first I guess.

Sparkling innocence, letting Laughter spill.

Maybe She’ll have a big heart,

Maybe it’ll learn  to beat louder still.

Beauty or Brains?

My baby shouldn’t need to decide.

The fire in her thoughts or the twinkle in her eye,

May lightning strike the ones who tell them to hide.

Fairytales are  what she’ll be made of.

She would be her own Princess Charming.

Her own Knight in battle-worn armour.

My Warrior born to eternal Sunshine,

Born to those starry skies at Midnight hour.

Maybe one day, She’ll come across these

Lines drunk on Hope, laced with a strange Love.

The words I wanted to tell Her

Sprinked with Angel-dust from the heavens above.

From the Mother-Who-Wasn’t to the Daughter-Who-May-Be,

Make your Mama proud,

Shine bright.

Make the Darkness flee.

Image Source

 

Articles You May Like