Home » Poems » Constance La France » The Child Who Is Me

The Child Who Is Me

Deep and lost within my adult soul A lonely and childish girl dwells Hair tumbling down, tangled A red ribbon loose, falling Hugging teddy with tears Playing with my dolls Holding a kitten Picking flowers For Mother _______________________ November 11, 2012 Poetry/Free Verse/The Girl Who Was Me Copyright Protected, ID 11- 435-089-11 All Rights Reserved, 2012, Constance La France Submitted to the Standard contest, 25 line's sponsor, Brian Strand, 11/2012 Third Place

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Bartholomew Williams

Date: 6/17/2017 3:43:00 PM

Congratulations on a refreshingly different, beautiful write! :) Bartholomew

Cecilia Macfarlane

Date: 11/18/2012 6:07:00 PM

A sweet write that touches the soul. Hugs

Voahanitriniaina Rabary-Andriamanday

Date: 11/17/2012 3:32:00 AM

I love the shape of your poem; must be the breakfast bowl my mother still keeps carefully in her kitchen to please her adult children when we come to visit her and drink warm milk: drinking revival from oldies goldies breakfast bowls! Thank you for the so sweet souvenirs...:) Love, Hanitra

Jack Horne

Date: 11/12/2012 2:54:00 PM

yes, I think the child is still in us all, my friend. Beautiful write

Russell Sivey

Date: 11/11/2012 8:27:00 PM

Wow, the beauty of this write is purely astounding! I am astonished by the wonderful words you used to portray such gorgeous things about childhood, and how we are still children though we might be very old! I really enjoyed reading the delightfully energetic and warm poem this evening! What a masterfully written piece, Great Work!!