I was cleaning up the old files on the computer and found this poem, written on Libby's birthday. It could have been written on any of you girls 16th birthday.

Libby is Sixteen

This morning
she couldn’t sleep,
awaking twice before
her alarms’ beep.

The minutes before
dawn are her time,
when she first looked out,
her moment of glory.

Today her world opens
to the rush of cars
and boys late at night.
To heart stopping time.

She laughs
And wonders what to wear.
She turns her head
and out swings her hair

like willow branches
riding the summer wind
under the bright bright sky
and the smiling sun.

Quickly now -
she has to run.
The chrysalis splits
and out she steps

into a world
that she owns;
just hers today
and perhaps tomorrow.

Fly high daughter.
We shall watch
the beauty of
the sun on your wings

Dad
September 22, 2000