"watching her dream..."

from the time she was little her dreams
were mine...a dollhouse, a horse, her school
of choice, the dress she imagined...
diaphanous, white, simple and pure...
her dress...

we've walked and talked and window
shopped, always lingering in front of windows
filled with tulle and nothing more...no
sequins or beading, rhinestones or pearls
just acres of ephemera...a billowing cloud of
white on white...

she was the one who slowed her steps,
paused and sighed...I was the one who held
my breath...this was, is, always has been
her dream...dreams that shift and morph and
evolve...as she does...

.walking with her, pausing,
watching her, has always been mine...