My three year old daughter
Bubbling with laughter
Sang to me a sweet song
In a long ago summer.
Fresh washed and brushed blond hair,
A pair, of bright white shoes
With heel and unformed soul combined
To give this girl in new blue dress
And eagerness for lucid life
A twirling grace, that framed her
Face with swirling curls, which spoke
Of innocence to win the race
By perfect form and fortune born
Of a pure and guiltless mind.
Remind me; despite my tender care,
That this fair and loving child
Was an embryonic wild and wanton woman,
Whose finite measured days of fun
The sun disdainfully allowed to run;
Whilst guileless beauty, golden, turning,
Passed the infant hours of learning
Unaware that time had planned
A moving of the hour hand,
To end the promise
Of this fresh faced start
In pain the coming rain would surely bring,
Filling these growing years with knowing tears
To slowly stain this new and true blessed heart,
And force; this singer, and her long departed song,
A long; long way apart.
© James Rainsford 2010