17 years have come to pass,
And with them I have grown
Daddy said they’d gone by so fast,
But oh, he’d never known.

His little girl’s now a lady,
With eyes that see the world,
A sinner by nature, not a baby,
I see the story unfurled.

A saint of my own story,
My only saving grace,
I will write my own history,
I will make my own place.

His baby is now a woman,
For someone to behold,
I’ll be somebody’s ‘someone’,
Their treasure, better than gold.

For I am a sinner and a saint.
I am a woman.

I love that poem.
It's sweet, and well, tell a story!

I'm going to assume it's yours, so keep writing.
Because that poem is a treasure.
-^-^-

Thank you very much. I wrote it when I was feeling particularly tired of being treated like a baby.