It’s a magical moment
watchin’ a little you
being pulled out.
Black hair, brown eyes
skin like mornin’ coffee,
and a voice that rings a bell.
Givin’ birth to your own twin,
and watchin’ the growth process
like a gardener.
If she’s a girl, you don’t want
her to play like a boy.
and a boy, you don’t want to
play like a girl.
When you was a girl,
mother would say:
“Don’t play with ’em boys!”
“Don’t play with ’em boys!”
This you say to her now.
A refrain sleepin’ and risin’
on your tongue, as each day
passes.
You can see her growin’ tall,
tall as the statue of liberty
with no freedom.
She wears a bra now;
wears hair like ladies
on the front page of Vogue;
walks like those on Runways.
She loves to run away with the day,
and return home with the night;
sneakin’ tryin’ not to wake the
sleepin’ doors.
She is you;
You was her.
