Seeing through

Hers was another hurried morning
A quarter after nine and
She needed to set out
Expectedly, she filled her Sunday
With errands and rendezvous
Looking forward to an extended
Sunday brunch at the lakeside

Pacing back and forth
In front of her dresser
She pulled over her romper
Checked her reflection
Put on her mascara
Glided her berry lipstick
And puckered her lips

As she tied the lace of her platforms
And looked up again
There she was in front of the mirror
The little girl with a stubby face
Small nose that looked like a button
Beneath the peach shades on her cheeks
She never really changed

Her hazel eyes are aged by wisdom
Expression deepened by experience
Wiser than her years
Yet her child-likeness remains
As the little girl stared right back
And smiled sweetly she realized
She remains the heiress to Florentine.