For My Daughter

Before the natal waterslide
Immersed you in the pool of birth,
I dreamed your pageant on this earth
As cherub, tomboy, scholar, bride.

My heart's your plaything, woman child,
Your windup toy, your music box -
For of its massive, steel-bolt locks
The combinations have you dialed.

And even when you most annoy,
I can't help smiling at your nerve;
As if the impudence you serve
Adds tartness to my dish of joy.