Beaming

I stepped off the curb, lifted my chin and there she was...
A little girl with dark curly locks drawn up in a beehive almost as altitudinous as she,
A princess crowned with a pink bow,
Her carriage of conveyance, the cart her mother was trudging up the inclined parking lot to their car.
Big brown eyes pensively peered at me, first on one side of her mother and then the other.
She inclined towards me, body and mind, wayward to the route of her mother's plod.
I held her ruminating regard without expression as long as I dared,
Then slightly raised the corners of my chops and softened my countenance.
At once she smiled, a sweeping showing simper.
As the faun, Mr. Tumnus, I nodded at my Lucy.
Reaching their destination, her mother asked her, "What are you looking at?"  and turned...
But I was already past, appearing as the lamp post,
An expected part of the landscape in one world,
Peculiar and out of place in the other...
Beaming.