Those Eyes (for Tavia)

You came into this world
like a pasta mama,
cheeks like chipmunks
and eye’s like heaven,
to melt every soul in a
five mile radius.

But I didn’t know you then.
I was alone in a different world,
far away from your dirty diapers,
your impossible smile
your insane laughs.
I had a soul like winter.

You’ve grown into those cheeks
but those eyes…
…those eyes remain the same,
reminders of the life before,
the perfect love of a child,
the innocent mischief
of a three year old
learning a language
for the first time.

You’re not my blood
but I’d still give you
every ounce of mine
if you needed it.

And someday you might…

You’re a daring girl,
without fear of pain.
(God knows, you’ve already had enough).

I’ve seen your face
green from grass stains
after flipping backwards
off Grandma’s swing.
You told me to push you higher,
I told you to hang on tight.

You let go
and I gasped,
ran to catch you…
…missed.
But you didn’t cry,
you never do.

You hugged me instead,
made my eyes tear up,
healed my pain.
Melted my soul.

I can’t say how you do it,
you just do.
It’s who you are.
It’s who you will always be,

those eyes.