the tiniest fingers

tiny fingers fidget expectantly
cultivating flowers from mist,
teasing timid white to blossom
into eager green and petals
proudly, your petulant pink

eyes laughing, determined
to spy what others do not
the bright panorama of fairies
flitting and ponies prancing
richly across your open heart

untainted yet by mortal fears
how true your colors flow
engendered in a fertile stream
of sweetest unmade sincerity
dancing daisies and dewdrops

My wee princess Leona Mae playing in Nature (October 2020)

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