Twelve

The year before “teen”

Is added to the end of her age,

All that is holy,

And everything in between.

The year that marks the end

Of little girlhood,

Of simple questions,

Make-believe and “let’s pretend.”

The year of cake candles 1 and 2,

That in 9 years

Will reverse?

Well, that can’t be true.

The year of in-between.

More freedom,

Independence,

Less of her to be seen.

The year of growing,

Maturing,

As time picks up speed

With no signs of slowing.

The year we see eye-to-eye.

Literally, that is.

A fact she wears proudly,

As she stands nearby.

Twelve years of relationship; 

Parent and child, 

Child and parent,

Now includes a special friendship.

The year of twelve

Seems so much

Older than 

Her eleven-year-old self.

But age is simply relative, 

Just a number.

Growing up is good,

I’m (almost) positive.

Twelve, yet how can she also be

Twenty-one and two? 

So grown up,

As well as my little baby.

But no matter the age,

Twelve or 

Twenty-one,

My awe will continue with each passing stage.

So, here’s to the twelfth year;

Soon to be “teen,”

Farther from “little.”

Forever I’ll be holding her dear.

Copyright © 2024, All rights reserved.