First-Born

for Amy

         The mind projects
All the reflections of a music box mirror.

The solitary dancer slowly pirouettes,
And only the eyes of a small child see.

Flush lips and full hair,
You soon outgrow your younger toys--

Waiting to give out
         Your long, estranging kiss.

You are so certain;
Will the ways of your hands and glance
         Never change?


©2012 Michael Fraley




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