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NINE YEARS OLD
All dressed up,
hair in curls,
pretty party
dress,
patent leather shoes,
a nine year old
as close to bliss
as ever a child could be.
The object of
her delight,
a shiny black bicycle,
an English racer
with spokes which
sparkled in the sun,
gearshift
and light,
a wicker basket
and a very fine bell.
She could barely reach the pedals,
but it didn't matter at
all.
Her very first ride,
her beagle puppy
running beside,
was a declaration
of unbridled glee.
"I
like it! I like it!"
she sang out loud,
her spirit soaring free.
Oh, to relive that day
and be that child
again
for just one hour,
as close to bliss
as I could ever be.
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