When I was a little girl,
My parents were sacred
Each word they uttered was a prophecy
Every action was to be replicated
They were as close to gods as I could get
They fed me, housed me, educated me
For that I am forever grateful
When you grow older
And have a life of your own
How do your parents fit into the picture?
A precarious relationship needs to be rewritten
Roots dug up from the ground and replanted
It is a painful but necessary process
For if the parents never let go
And keep their adult child rooted too close to home
Resentment will fester, grey mushrooms and fungus will grow
In place of bone white lilies
Parents, strong oak trees, providing shade and shelter
Can also cloud over and suffocate their flowers
Trying their best to bloom in their shadow
When I am a parent, I will know when to let go
To let my offspring blossom
Into a purple lilac on her own
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