Three Little Women were best friends from the start,
Even though they were two and four years apart.
Golden Brown locks, all three in a row,
All dressed alike, from their head to their toes.
The oldest was protective, a mothers right hand.
Next was a gentle wild child always in dreamland.
Last was the one who was giggly and small,
And looked up to her sisters that broke her every fall.
Three Little Women at play in grassy meadows.
A secret garden they made with dirt covered knees and elbows.
Bare foot in jeans is how they’d always be found,
Just happy to have the others old hand-me down.
Fireflies caught at dusk in a jar,
Their faces aglow as they wished upon a star.
They swung on their swings and sat down for tea,
And ran to the mailbox singing “Ollie, Ollie, Oxen Free”.
Three Little Women would lay awake at night,
Telling stories and secrets in the glow of a night-light.
A room they did share with two big bunk beds,
And prayers said together before they’d rest their sweet heads.
Knick-knacks they’d exchange after doing their chores.
Makeovers and dress up were their favorites for sure.
American Girl Dolls, Barbie’s, and dresses,
Six tiny hands together making messes.
Three Little Women are little no longer,
All grown up and a friendship much stronger.
One day they will have little women of their own,
And once again they can enjoy what they once had outgrown.
Forever they will remain each other’s best friends,
Until their time together here on earth ends.
Nothing can shatter a bond so pure and true,
Sisters who love each other more than most sisters do.
