Almost Twelve

For Mallory

I’m loving this existence
because of you,
The way you walk
in sunshine and speak
in a voice of innocence
without pretense.

A ritual, this counting
my blessings -your charms-
like leaves
on a maple in full sway.
Impossible to be anything
but thankful

at the way even your shadow
shimmers with energy.
Explaining you is like trying
to connive a poem.
It can be done but something
would be lacking.

Your photograph will show
wide eyes bluer than the bluest
sky, and red hair that you insist
is strawberry blond,
but it wouldn’t show the music
of the art form.

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