A child's gaze, pure and unblemished, rests softly upon my face —
Her small hand clasps a flower, mirroring the tones of her delicate attire.
Within her eyes — deep, dark pools — lingers a notion:
That my presence alone might be the reason for her eternal unfolding.

Beside her, a sister lingers — eyes drawn to a vase brimming with blooms.
What mystery lies within that vessel, pulling her attention so entirely?
Does she, too, perceive in me something weighty,
Or is it the vase that cradles the burden of her gaze?

Though I stand untouched, innocent in this tableau,
I feel the pull — a quiet longing to retreat.
The child's gaze — so steady, so mirror-like — reflects an enigma I cannot name:
A silent curiosity, unspoken, yet profoundly sincere.