I pull tightly;
not too tightly,
or she’ll cry out.
She loves when I spend time with her.
I pull all the way back,
gathering stray, wandering locks,
smoothing blonde hair with
my clumsy hands.
When I pull too hard,
she lets out a squeal.
I loosen quickly, nearly dropping
all the strands.
I hold together my masterpiece
with a little flying, butterfly.
Two silver barrettes fasten the sides
like a bow.
I tell her I’m done and
she exclaims with a big toothy grin,
“I’m hungry,”
and she yanks my arm.
I sit her down and lunch begins.
Today’s special: grilled cheese and macaroni
(separate of course)
her two favorites.
She looks up with green eyes
and smiles a filled, big toothy grin.
“Mummy, tank you.”
And I smile.
