she has ice blue eyes
in a face that echoes back to faded photographs from across the pond
her great grandmother and her grandmother’s face
her father’s face
but her soul comes from me
it is filled with light and darkness and dances with all the colors in an evening sky
she is an artist
her voice her instrument
she hears the exact pitch, timbre and tonal quality of every note that finds her ear
she pushes herself
works into the night for what she wants
she reaches hard for the burning brightness of her dreams
but finds it hard to not achieve exactly what she wants
her instincts read you like a sentence on the pavement
uncanny she can tell who people are beneath pretense
deeply kind she easily extends her hand
but has a harshness if she finds you lacking
her beauty is shadows and angles and glances
blue and reds and golds tangled in her hair and eyes
she is proud
and very fragile
she will fling her stardust high into the deep blue sky
and fill her hands with the silver dust that falls
she will find love
be it where she never looked
she will reach her dreams
be they dreams she never dreamed
she will include us in all the futures she will write
and she will be in every future of my life
I love that she is my daughter
more that she is my friend
