A Mother’s Prayers

I look at this little creature and I see myself. 

My face, eyes and hair, all copied in this little elf. 

It stops my breath and I plead “please, little one- don’t be like me.”

Then we walk in the wood, she grabs my basket and takes the lead.  

I remember she is made of so much more, 

The thirteen mothers that came before.  

Her father’s people guide her too, 

A long and noble queue. 

The woods stop their spin

I am grateful for the company we’re in. 

She is not looking at my footsteps to see where to go. 

And that is all I need to know.