Laces

round, starry, sponge eyes,

burst under spiderweb lashes.

dark scrapes on the knee

make war paint from life's crashes.

full, furry eyebrows,

tattooed with a crayola green,

marked during doodles

of the monsters unseen.

apple juice sticky,

but grinning from ear to ear,

not five years old,

leads life with love, foreign to fear.

today is special.

"darling, tell me: which will you choose?"

"Mommy!  I'm grown up!

There are laces on these shoes!"