My Daughter's Awakening

In the dim blue glow from our tv you laid
face down on your hands after showering.    
You were all arms, legs, and a slender trunk.  
 
You must have forgotten I was in the room.  
Your lower back began to arch up and back down.    
The backs of your long, pale legs tensed and  
relaxed in a soft, slow rhythm and I thought  
I heard you humming.  
 
You were a beautiful ballerina with toes  
pointing happily toward an imaginary stage.  
In spite of the folds of wet hair covering your face,  
I sensed happiness growing across your bare body  
as you found the young woman inside of yourself.  
It was your awakening and I was seeing it,  
your early inklings of what was possible,  
and what was to come.  
 
Six years later as you readied yourself for a  
special young man, I suspected how that  
evening might end. Later, when I heard  
whispers in the hallway and your bedroom  
door close softly, I crept to the dark living  
room.  I touched myself, remembering your awakening  
as I imagined the scenes unfolding only feet above me.