I saw a little child,
She turned and looked at me.
She was a curious little soul,
With a graze upon her knee.

She asked me many questions,
She told me many things.
She danced and sang and laughed a lot,
An angel without wings.

Then her mother called her name,
And she ran away from me.
I saw her fade into the mist,
With a graze upon her knee.

I smile and wonder where she’s gone,
Now I rarely dance and sing.
I’m guarded in what I choose to share,
I’m no angel without wings.

Inspired, I begin to dance again,
Not caring who might see.
Although a woman, I’m still that girl,
With a scar upon my knee.

B.D.Hawkey
bdhawkey.com