Poetry
For Alisha — The Season of Becoming
There is a softness now in your smile,
the kind that summer leaves behind—
a glow of late sunlight lingering
on fields that have known warmth and rain.
You have gathered all your days
into the cradle of one small heart,
and in her breath, you hear your own—
echoes of who you were,
and whispers of who you are still becoming.
Motherhood has drawn its gentle brush
across your face, its colors deepened
by sleepless love, quiet awe,
and the hush between tiny heartbeats.
You are no longer just the summer—
you are the ripened earth beneath it,
the golden hush before the frost,
the beauty that endures
when petals yield to fruit.
And as your daughter grows beneath your gaze,
you’ll see yourself reflected—
not as you were, but as you’ve bloomed:
a woman more radiant, more real,
more beautiful in the fall.