Monday, June 1, 2009
Three little girls on a warm summer day,
Asked Grannie what should we do…what game can we play,
Being a wise woman accustomed to young lasses,
She spread out a blanket on the soft, green grasses.
Plopping on their little bellies the giggles ensue,
They roll to their backs gazing at the sky wondering what to do.
Hey, that cloud looks like a bear,
No…it’s a buffalo, I declare.
The hours passed as we watched and pondered,
The shifting, wafting shapes changing as we wondered,
Soft, fluffy, billowy, wispy…floating so high above,
Did they get up there on the wings of a dove?
They had heard of “on the wings of a snow white dove”.
That must be how they got so very high above.
This mystery was more than they could figure out,
Grannie called them to lunch with a shout,
You girls can play again after while,
Skipping, running, jumping to Grannie with a smile.