Tulip Child

May 1, 2017

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.

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