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





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