Young Stars

She is swallowed by blue silk. 

I am comforted by white cotton, 

Plastered in painted handprints.

She wears a silly hat, finished with 

Flowers and stuck-on letters.

I wear a cap. 

She towers to the height of the heavens.

I reach no further than her hip.

Two trembling hands hold each other for dear life. 

I ask when we trade our glass slippers for true princess shoes. 

The gold from her heels draws my eye. 

We would one day walk in those? 

I had tried on shoes in stores, in Mom’s closet, but I was tired of tripping; 

I stick to my Cinderella slippers. 

I ask what true love feels like. 

Over and over, Disney flashes across my TV, 

I wanna know when a prince will storm waters and witches 

In the name of his heart’s desire for me. 

I ask what we want to be when we grow up. 

The dreams I scribble in diaries, the aspirations only admitted 

To the stars beyond my window,

Did we choose one at last? 

Has our fate been written? 

I ask why I must wait so long to grow up.

If kindergarten is only just ending, how long must I wait

Until I am her? 

The time when I am no longer a child, but a woman of the world. 

She looks down at me, 

Her arm and a pain in my tummy drag me along.

I blink.

My eyes flick upward with another question, 

But 

I no longer greet a face that traps me with awe. 

I am met with the sun. 

Blinding. 

Blue sky. 

I look down, the blue continues. 

Now a royal shade. 

A tug on my hand grounds me once more. 

A young girl, no taller than my hip. 

A white shirt with painted handprints hugs her.

Her face beams with a thousand questions. 

She asks when we trade our glass slippers for true princess shoes.

She peers in wonder at the heels.

I reply that it has been years since I outgrew the plastic, 

But I would sell my soul to clip-clop and slip on the stairs one last time. 

She asks what true love feels like. 

I listen to her heart chip when I inform her no kings or queens await in our future, 

But I pinky-promise that true love consumes us still. 

She will find it is

Warm, 

Suffocating, 

Beautiful, 

Terrifying, 

A reason to savor the sun and the days it bestows on us. 

She asks what we’ll be when we grow up. 

I recall piles of journals, now collecting dust, and assure her 

Although unclear right now, the stories 

From grandmother and granddaughter will fuel us

Into a force of nature the world will never expect. 

She asks why she must wait so long to grow up. 

To that, I may only sink to her level, 

Freeze to soak in her beautiful youth 

With her cheeks cradled in my palms. 

She learns the innocence she so desperately wishes to trade 

For a taste of life will seep through the cracks in the blink of an eye, 

Unnoticed until it is already lost. 

She’ll spend hours cupping her hands, frantic for its return. 

She promises to cherish all she holds.

Her hand slips from mine. 

I blink, and now she’s lightyears away.

On a stage 

Much like the one my feet plant on. 

We spot each other. 

We smile.

She cannot wait to grow up.