Young Girl

She was a young girl,
From a noble stock.
Lithe in her form,
With grace in her walk.

Like a young deer prancing,
She bounded out.
And escaped across the floor,
To a backyard route.

I watched her skirt moving,
Flowing in the air.
And curly-locks showing,
That hung in her hair.

I could see love speaking,
With a smile on her face.
Beauty wrapped her,
In her netted lace.

For she was a warrior,
And her smile was like wine.
I longed so to hold her,
And to know she was mine.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

Ethel's Granddaughter, Leslie - and her Great, Great Granddaughter, Karmen.