February 11, 2011

  • Pint-Size Diva

     

        The Grown-Up In the Mirror


    I heard our daughter from out in the hall
    laughing and chatting to no one at all
    I peeked in our bedroom, only to see
    in front of Mom's mirrors, the woman to be

    She was deep in her Mother's make-up kit
    Too much mascara? Well, maybe a bit
    Absorbed in the mirror, she hadn't seen me
    watching, and loving, his grown-up wannabe.

    Scolding a member of her reflective retinue,
    hand on her hip like she'd seen Mommy do
    Then she deepened her voice, and to my regret,
    pretended to smoke one of my cigarettes. 

    A baby-blond tress fled the scarf she wore,
    soon to be followed by  two or four more
    While pretending shyness with make-pretend guys,
    then trying on  a  brassier demeanor for size

    She danced like Brittany, and sang like Miley
    pouted like an actress that she watched on TV
    she posed for the cameras, and kissed the air
    gave the crowd her profile, then saw me there.

    "Daddy!" She yelled, running straight into my hug
    What are you up to? "Nothing", she said with a shrug
    "You go wash your face, it's about time to eat."
    To the bathroom she ran, Mom's shoes on her feet

    From dressing-room diva to not eating her peas,
    is a switch  she can make with an innocent ease
    In her pretty world, dreams come without fears
    She's already my star, at ten weeks and five years.

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