That beautiful child still lives -
 rolling down the hill of lush grass,
 laughing in the wind of a summer storm
 brewing in the darkened clouds.

The joy to be found in the mirth of that child,
 when about her the clouds roll and the sky crackles,
 is still there.

You may look and see only the wrinkles, 
 to her they're part of the countryside,
 just the hills and valleys of reflected life.

That beautiful child still lives, 
 within.

© 2005 E. S. von Gehren All Rights Reserved