THE 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
Make-pretend shyness with make-pretend guys,
then donning 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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2 responses to this post.

  1. Mmmmm….I love this. I do believe every daughter is daddy’s star.

    Reply

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