Monday, August 25, 2014


She wouldn't climb a tree
Like any other girl
But sat and posed and
Twisted a little golden curl.
The boys all brought her apples
From the highest limb
And made a cushion of leaves for her
When they went in to swim.

They shinnied up poles and risked their necks,
Did handsprings for her smile,
But that wistful look was still in her eyes
However they sought to beguile.
Her slightest wish was their command
Such gallantry as this
For she was a little crippled girl
Whom one of the boys called "Sis."


No comments:

Post a Comment