Little One

Here's a snippet of poetry I wrote in early college. I thought I'd occasionally throw these in, just for fun.


Where has the little one gone?
She played there every day.
Her house was tree-leave sewn
Her children -- flowers fey
At mind, I think,
she must be
To charm this earthen fold
Though home is now the tree
And babies -- marigold.
Now look!
See you this thing
That manners so demur?
The little one wears a ring
I ask, Can this be her?
She's aged since last she'd twirl
And smiles not as much.
Where has she gone, this girl
To be the likes of such?