I hope that by then I will be certain to love you enough and not only let you of my body but into the chambers of my heart. As you grow, if you plan to turn out like me, be prepared to get stuck up with creativity, pens, papers, words, poems and silence. Be ready to crave enjoyment and satisfaction in being alone with yourself. Unlike myself, you will learn early to be an inspiration to yourself and for people to imitate. You will learn and kiss love to your difference like the shooting star that moves among the shining but immobile stars.
Although I am imperfect, I hope to be your mirror, a reflection of your beauty and awesomeness. Only once will I let your father love another woman and she must be you. I will enthrone the bushes of your kinky hair with the crown of Nefertiti and I will oil your skin to glow like gold. I will teach you how to pick diamonds and crystals out of stones, how to find you strength if this world ever tells you that as a girl you are weak. You will not be a metaphor for flowers that wither, die and rot by time. Your middle name will be “god” because the Lord of Ages is also your father and your soul will be forever young in this world and His world that comes after. You sense of humor will torment sadness and when it looks like the sun is hiding, you will be there to take charge. Together we will make perfection an understatement when describing and defining you. You will be more than I am and more than I will ever be. You will be more than I have written and whatever is left that is unsaid and unknown this day.
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