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My Little Sweet Pea
That’s what she is a little flower to me,
A tulip, a rose, daisy or even sweet pea.
Fragrant soft ringlets make up her hair,
Must be why butterflies flutter round there.
She runs through wet grass in her bare feet,
Red birds and blue birds to her they greet.
This beautiful sight I bury in heart and head,
The day will come when far away she is led.
Author Eileen Clark
Copyright ©
Eileen Clark
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