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There was a little girl I remember from my youth.

The 9 year old version of myself.
Pigtails and babydolls,
Barbies that were imaginary replacements for real friends.
There is the 9 year old version of myself that walked along the shores
of Lake Erie picking up tumbled glass with it's smoothed edges
convinced they were gems.
Those shores could have been oceans to my wide eyed perceptions.
Friday night dinners at the Ground Round with a single parent mom
The occasional splurge of fudge deserts with ice creams.
Those conversations between mother and daughter that never seemed youthful
but rather that between two old souls walking through another repeated lifetime.
There was a 9 year old version of myself that partook of free balloon giveaways
at the end of the special meal we really couldn't afford.
Somehow, we survived.
One breath
I remember those days, the sacrifices made.
The challenges faced.
The dreams dreamt big,
could hold.
There is a 9 year old version of myself
that inscribed every wish
on red balloons released to heaven
as I walked along Lake Erie shores.
Mother and Daughter, hand in hand
No desire impossible
nor too grand.
No hope too distant.
A simple declaration of the heart.

There is a 32 year old version of myself waiting,
still waiting along those shores,
for the reading of Red Balloons.
A child's heart to God's ears ,
forever beating



A good woman, in her undulating curves from ear to toe.
Knows the milestones of journeys between here and there.
She counts the road blocks, takes record and continues on.

A good woman takes heed of warnings, listens to the voice within
Takes embrace of guardian angels and opens her heart fully.
She understands the current and resists nothing of change.

A good woman, sees the value in her own reflection,
She relishes in the imperfections

like the markers of growth and surrender.
She takes in the enigmatic serenity that stares back

in her own softened gaze.

A good woman, is strong in her passions,
courageous in her convictions, loyal to that which is earned.
She knows the difference between love and lust,
She drinks of the divine and replenishes that which is empty.

A good woman, is the soul of the world,
a sacred resting place for man's insecurities,
She is the jewel that sparkles in the dark of night,
When all has fallen off the edge.

A Good Woman, is the breath, the air to fill the spaces with a touch,
a laugh, a smile,
a HOPE that she will never abandon.
She is an intoxicating vision of tomorrow

and a cherished memory of today

A good woman in every curve of her form, is a tree deeply rooted,
forever growing towards heaven

A good woman, is a shaded place under which to rest safely

for those that see her beauty.

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