In the quiet warm,
I see you squatting
In the mud puddle which
Clouds and rain and dirt had created.
I see you, looking up at me,
Smiling;
Laughter squirting through those eyes of blue;
Dirt smudges on your face,
Your arms.
Your bright, yellow dress, now
Tainted of mud.
I see you,
Daughter of mine.
Did you have fun?
American Poetry Annual 1991
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