Little girl as she walks steady and fast,

with a soft giggle, she enters like a kitten;

she shares life in complete unaware;

a gift daily repeated in total trust.

Like Baudelaire's passer-by, she does not linger;

she is flash of simple weightlessness,

one moment and gone, an apparition.

How fortunate that the moment is common.

Today a surprise, tomorrow another, and again;

perhaps later this day the magic of my hours will return;

and she does not know little girl, and woman.

A lady of heavenly words how she moves the world.

Little Legs no more, yet in depth of heart,

never will change, perhaps so she too is

little girl of a certain age, or an age that is assured.

She steals this heart with every little girl smile.

Little girl of a life, I want to touch your heart,

of soul with little finger tips, possibly to keep you,

for a moment yet, so you will not sublimate too soon.

And remain but a memory for you are true.

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