Spring mornings, with a fresh golden mist,And heaven’s dew doth rest,Along the rows of tulips be,And it seemed I was alone, just me. Then, a fluttered sky,With beings white, and coming nigh,I shuddered in fright, only to find,Their sweet lovely honks, were not mean, but kind. There above the deep stormy skies,A ray of sun that soon defies,And a child’s smile, That would most definitely stay a while. For I am the tulip child,Always young, and forever wild,In misty air,Forever I will be there.