We had a bent, old gard'ning man
When I was just a child,
Who'd lost his home and memory,
Within a cyclone, wild!
But who he was before that day,
No one would ever know
And he came to live at our place
To help the flowers grow.
My father called him "Cyclone Bill"
And that became his name.
He never had too much to do,
To join me in some game.
One day, my grandpa came to stay
And brought me a surprise.
A doll with curly, golden hair
And lovely sky-blue eyes.

I ran outside to show her to
Cyclone Bill, my friend.
I fell and broke the pretty head
There was no way to mend.
Bill helped me up and dried my tears.
The doll's head he retrieved
And told me then, this fairytale,
That I, unquestioning, believed!
"You know potato eyes will grow
Potato plants," said he.
"Now doll's eyes grow the nicest dolls
That ever you did see,"
So underneath a rose bush fair,
We planted those blue eyes
And every day I watered them,
To help the doll plant rise.
And then one glorious morning,
Upon that precious spot,
There stood a doll as beautiful
As one my grandpa bought!


B.L.H.🦋  
11-14-1929 to 3-2-2021

Rest in peace Mom.