Herself

She’s a paper shower in the playroom; Her reckless celebration leaves confetti everywhere. She’s an alibi without a witness, A breathless explanation laced with giggles here and there. She’s a wildflower in a sundress, The mistress of the garden, just as willful as you please. She’s a graceful angel making mischief, A laughing ballerina dancing off with daddy’s keys. She’s a blue doodle done in crayon, More artistry than science, more rebellion than repose. She’s a proud distraction walking Pooh-foot,* The center of attention, Queen of everything she knows. (*Pooh is a bear, after all. She told me that herself.)