the girl in her

she is an easy bake
oven.
she's a Barbie doll.
she's a small
red car. a bike
with training wheels
and streamers
flying from
the handle bars.
she's a girl, still,
at this age, in pink,
in ribbons and bows,
not a sign of grey.
she'll never ever,
she promises, grow old.
so you hold her to it,
and say I do.