Round and round the circle she goes,
riding as fast as she can.
She wants to arrive at womanhood.
She wants to take wing and fly.
She does not know that some day soon
she will ride just as fast with a great deal of ease.
She will be behind the time, of course,
but she will barely be aware of that.
She will gaze at the trees and the grass as they shine
like peridot and emerald beneath a violet sky,
and the tufts of the flowers and the light from the west
will echo her children’s laughter
as they do their best to keep their mother’s pace.
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