I gazed adoringly at her black hair

tied in pigtails with red and golden ribbons,

passed down for generations,

now entangled with her soul.

Hearing her lovely voice calling,

“Mommy, mommy,”

charming even the 

toughest of trolls.

The only voice soothing 

enough to quell my storms

of turmoil and fear.

She melts into the shadows,

her smiling face still chiseled

in my mind, like a Michelangelo.

And so she grew from

my little bud, blossoming

gracefully into a flower.

Now, I hear her confident voice

delivering speech after speech.

Only later do I glimpse

the red and golden ribbons.