I am your daughter

I looked into the mirror. I looked at my nose, I observed my smile, I looked at my eyes…and I saw you. I am your daughter.
When I listened to my laughter, observed my body language, looked at my nails…I was reminded that I am your daughter.

I listened to the silent assertiveness in my voice, saw the keenness to detail that I possess, heard my firm acceptance or denial to suggestions or situations…and I remembered you; I am your daughter.

I acknowledged the still faith in my soul, the fervent tenacity of my determination and the sheer virtual infinity of my stubbornness…It was ascertained to me that indeed I am your daughter.

I heard the echo of my loud laughter, felt and accepted the sensitivity of my emotions, observed my naked gullibility to vulnerability on 3D…I was assured that I am your daughter.

I realized that I hurt quick, hide it faster, carry it forward…and I thought of you; I am your daughter.

I like color brown, and efficiency, and better yet effectiveness…and it occurred to me; I am your daughter.

I snore sometimes, I prefer clarity…like figures, I like to sing; and it was so clear that I am your daughter.

I can talk philosophy for six hours straight, I can laugh twenty four hours long, I concoct my own ideologies; I am your daughter.

I am 5 ft 2, I’m of chocolate complexion, and I smile a lot; I am your blood…the product of love-or a moment of it; your daughter.

It will never leave; the sheer memory of you. I see you, I feel you, I hear you. You are in the mirror, in my laughter and in my convictions…you are in my heart.

I love and miss you; whether virtual or real…I do.

Come home.