Oh, sweetheart.
You are the prettiest little pinwheel,
poised to joyfully, gracefully twirl in your garden
when none of us are looking.
You stand so still while people pass by,
staring straight ahead
so they’ll never ever suspect
you’d rather be spinning round and round
till you nearly fall down,
dizzy with glee.
Just because they say you can’t
doesn’t make it true.
You, precious one, are far too lavender-lovely
not to twirl right into
the greatest dream you have for yourself.
And I’ll be right here to cheer you on.
