Daughters Bring

Bells, that ring Birds, who sing Butterflies, on the wing Clothes, too short, too cling Songs, I would not sing I don't know, what's that thing A phone, that never stops its ring Going to school, to hear them sing Kisses, for that sore bee sting On the car, a new ding When their sad, they need to cling Soon enough, up they spring Full of life, off they zing New boy-friends, home they bring Soon I know, there may be, a ring A wedding after, perhaps in spring Hoping, it's, a far off thing Kisses and hugs, for me, the king These are the treasures, that Daughters bring