I watched her intently out of the corner of my eye,
as she sat on her tall stool riding easy and high,
tossing her hair across her shoulder with a flourish,
glossy and curled like no shampoo could nourish,
and eyes darting around the room like a wheeling dervish,
and dancing and twinkling like something devilish,
and yet that would be the last description for her,
her upturned nose a perpetual snub to some air,
that gave an impression that I couldn't mess with the maiden fair,
the eyebrow arched sceptically in suspended disbelief,
as the lips formed the perfect pout as I breathed a sigh of relief,
that soon disappeared as her eyes questioned my audacity,
at daring to question her intent and her
authenticity,
she turned away with a disdainful flounce of lacy skirt,
as her mother called across the room, strident and curt,
I wondered if all five year olds were born this worldly wise
or was this little girl a specimen of a species on the rise ?
