~ ~ ~
In
the first part
of the seventies, you
were our fairy hippie child; running
freely nude as we all did.  Little girl as complex as a maze.
Wild giggles sprinkling freely across your face, alternating with
those solemn ways, and faraway sweet thoughtful gaze.
Your mind was made up of such tender, mystic
things. The only missing entity was
wings.
~ ~ ~
I thought perhaps you could have been
my sweetest recompense
for all the years of sorrow that had
made my muse intense.
~ ~ ~
You were our
fairy hippie child; curling
tendrils golden around your fairest face;
enchanting daughter gifted with the rarest grace,
laughter ever bubbling from an endless inner font; our love
and snuggles proved to be all you could ever want.
~ ~ ~
In those years of carefree hippiedom, we couldn’t have craved for more,
than a radiant bouncing daughter who loved hearing faery lore;
with shining eyes as round and green as a marble's richest core;
luminous and passionate as your innocence of spirit.
Life was such simplicity.  My soul could clearly hear it.
~ ~ ~
It was a dauntless musical culture we whole-heartedly embraced.
Long loose hair and dresses; bell-bottoms and bliss;
tapestries; bluez, and greenz. Nights’ rapturous sagas sensually laced
with incredible, voluptuous scenes. How could we ever have
wished for more than this,
with our three babes, in love encased ...
~ ~ ~
Captivating us with your charmed and
loving faces. Are there now
left any traces?
~ ~ ~
One emotional, one contemplative, one resourceful,

you were all miraculous ...

to us.
~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~