Mommy’s little girl
Stands silently aside
Never fussing or fretting
Hides what’s inside.
Mommy’s little girl
Has a voice unheard
Whispering. Screaming.
A fiery bird.
Mommy’s little girl
Doesn’t know who she is
This Phoenix of power
That comes from within.
Mommy’s little girl
Has a story to tell
But mommy is speaking
And we mustn’t yell.
Shush, little girl
Come, sit down.
S. R. Crawford 