The Lady

beautiful-toys-doll-brown-hd-pics-images

Google Image

 

A dignified lady

often visits me.

She’s about six, fatherless

and has a flair for words.

She dislikes her ‘letter life’

roaming about

in coaches, boxes and pockets

all the time.

She’s a storm at home

(her mother’s version)

though at my place

she flows like a gentle breeze

carrying fragrance

of fresh enlivening words

with the jingle of a child’s voice.

I suspect

a poet is in the making.

 

 

 

Posted for Poetry Pantry #357 @ Poets United