White Clover

WHITE CLOVER

Skipping toward me
wilted violets and dandelions in hand
wearing clover in her hair,
She smiles in awe of the beauty
her innocents finds in this simple gift.
Imagination runs wild.

Lost in her world of fantasy
bug puppets and paper dolls
Barbies and building blocks,
briefly she stops her play
turning her face and smiles
at me with white clover in her hair.

Rock pile castles spring
from the dry dusty ground.
Intricate stories played out,
tiny voice echoing the mind.
White clover woven
into golden crowns.

Crayons turn to pencils,
boxes of drawings on the floor.
Lightening bugs counted by thousands
as she smiles and brings one more
wearing clover in her hair
Curiosity insatiable and honest.

Hand in hand down the aisle
long white dress flowing
golden hair shorn, childhood fields overgrown
with new radiance, new dreams.
Before departing she kisses my head
placing white clover in my hair.

7/2/02

Children Index