Alexandra Marie Green

Writer

Portrait of My Goddaughter in Childlikeness

Dear baby girl,
you are impractically perfect
in every way - rocking back
and forth in your light-up,
light-blue shoes
small hands holstered
to your child-sized hips.
Crisscrossed eyes, puffed-out
cheeks, you are a red-faced
blowfish. Pink lips puckered
at the tip of a bubble wand,
you cannot manage to blow out
one, translucent, floating orb.
Until you do
And a blush blooms
in the plump of your cheeks -
cheeks rising high to hug
the laugh lines like fingers
waving from the crinkled corners
of your eyes -
the animation of elation.
You watch
a butterfly flutter by,
squealing when it soars
up at you -
eyes crinkle, cheeks dimple,
pink gums flashing with each giggle.
You run-jump
away, feet hiccuping with
delight
clapping together the red
knee-pressed flesh of your palms -
everything awash in wonder.