Silver lock
with a sheen
curls gently around her ear
caressing sounds as they are heard
murmers,shouts,giggles and sighs
float on in
Little Girl
Your hair is older
than your heart
which bars thoughts of
death, pain and illness
that have oldened and borne off loved ones
Emerald twinkling eyes
gaze towards Eire
longing for the grassy meadows
and the quaint thatched villages
Ivory lock
with a pearl's sheen
curls tenderly around her ear
caressing sounds as they are caught
whispers, yelps, chuckles and gasps
drift on in
Young gel
your hair is shorter
than your soul
which now romps and journies
In the hills of Eire
Out of time's keeping
