You’re silly in your New Year’s hat,
Covered in confetti and blue eye shadow:
One hand at your nose, half mocking, half waving,
But I’ve never seen you look so pretty.

You’re missing the dark circles,
And the lines around your mouth,
And your walnut colored hair,
Lacks the brassy hue I’ll inherit.

Behind you, an old man holds a little girl,
Showing off her Winnie the Pooh feety pajamas.
Her brother was put to bed hours ago,
But she doesn’t want to miss a thing.

Suddenly, it might be Saturday morning,
Bowie’s on, and you’re dancing.
That little girl is watching you,
And you’ve forgotten to be self-conscious.

It takes a minute
To recognize,
Until you stepped in,
This was a picture of me.