An Old Fashioned Girl

OLD FASHIONED GIRL

she picks out a sewing set from a miniature

polka dotted can made purely of tin,

her mother smiles, relieved that old fashioned

thingamajigs still lie about the old cottage

 

she is modest in her affirmation;

that she remains at heart an old fashioned girl

she lives in that old cottage at the heart of the

valley, with an old lemon tree way out in the

 

back, her old, ailing father plants dahlias and

daffodils, her old grandmother, ancient in spirit

brings strong, fresh geraniums, her mother smiles,

she still loves her lavender blossoms, along the

 

back wall and out in front of her bedroom window

she is modest in her affirmation;

that she remains at heart an old fashioned girl

she still lives in that old cottage with its rusted

 

old tin roof, her old father built this old cottage

with his own old hands, her mother is old fashioned

too, she thanks the matriarch always for inspiration

though it needs work she believes her story will yet

 

 

grow, her mother writes the first lines.

she is modest in her affirmation;

that she remains at heart an old fashioned girl

she inherits her mother’s distinctive curl,

 

 

it twirls down her stern forehead, she loves

to jump and screech and twill,

she is modest in her affirmation;

that she remains at heart an old fashioned girl

 

 

she sighs with dejection, in the heart of the valley

that there are nary a cat, dog, not even a white

field mouse with which to cuddle, then she is

joy once more, for her two old uncles have arrived

 

 

from the cape once more, her old mother screeches

from the stoep, mousse, there is mousse for everyone

there is chocolate mousse, in the old tin rusted-roofed

house, oh dear oh dear, she admits to herself

 

modestly;

that she remains at heart an old fashioned girl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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