Milestone

A photo made an ache in me,
Though there is nothing sad
About the subject-
Five years old
In turning point garbs,
A tassel against
Her ruddy round cheek,
In a color whose name
Turns over with the decades.
The melancholy
Is only with the viewer,
Flexing fingers
With a need to stretch
Across the meridian
And sweep the ornament
From her delicate arcing brow.
She’s a lot like me, I’m told.