beyond her years.

she places her freckled hands in her lap
while you try to avert your eyes
the clear light shines off of glass
through the open window
onto her shoulder, the fluid strands of hair

she is a good little girl, properly behaved
her back straight and both feet
firmly planted on the ground
your face searches her features

a royal iris, an unyielding structure
she is a sage, a clever young bird
graceful and subtle
wearing cotton and a ponytail

you suddenly understand
that she can see right through you

she is delicate like concrete
you are timid and pliable
and she already knows you
as she grins at your innocence


© 3.2.12 heather brager