Through meadows sweet her eager feet the dewy blossoms waken,
She stirs the dust where wanderlust her childish heart has taken,
With picnic basket and teddy bear,
Sun bonnet and ruffled underwear,
And ribbons clinging to her hair
As by her prance, they’re shaken
With hops and skips her basket tips yet never seems to scatter,
While fairy-queen and evergreen hark to her ceaseless chatter,
Dear teddy bear and lilac tree,
Even the busy honey bee,
Nod and listen wordlessly
To what, it does not matter
The laughing breeze and shady trees with loving vigil guard her,
Bereft of care, this angel fair basks here in nature’s ardor,
Where time and haste do not exist,
Where blossoms are caressed and kissed,
She never wonders if she’s missed,
This precious little daughter
Oh, what I’d pay for just a day to walk the trail she wanders,
Where sparkling brooks and mossy nooks watch as the hour she squanders,
But far too soon adulthood hails,
And draws her from these precious trails,
A heaven made for little girls
That years from now, will taunt her
All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin
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