The Girl in the Bikini
She’s my only daughter and as much like me as anyone I’ve ever known, the girl in the bikini.
She’s a breath of fresh air amidst the boys she proudly calls brothers and fiercely adores, the girl in the bikini.
She’s the one that remembers my birthday and cards and making cupcakes with candles and brown icing, the girl in the bikini.
She is so very kind, a trait that hasn’t come easily for me, and so I learn from the best, the girl in the bikini.
She’s not too big and not too small though I keep mum on her size and shape and everything in between, the girl in the bikini.
She chose a new bathing suit in the store today and admired herself in the cold mirror made warm by her satisfaction, the girl in the bikini.
She loves herself and so, I try to love myself too, the girl no longer in a bikini.
She is the granddaughter of the woman that taught me and led by example that pretty is as pretty does and beauty comes from the inside, the girl in the bikini.
She is magnificently precocious yet the very portrait of innocence and I long to freeze the heart of a girl that longs for nothing, the girl in the bikini.
The girl in the bikini has stolen my heart.