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.)
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