Itinerantdaughter's Blog

Last night at a Seder I sat across the table from a beautiful little girl.  She had enormous bright eyes, a plucky attitude, and curly hair that was highlighted so perfectly there could be no doubt no one had ever put chemicals in her tresses.  She knew she was cute, and beamed at me whenever I directed questions at her.  “How old are you?” for instance.  She said four, but she would be five soon.  “When is your birthday?”  “In the fall,” she said.  “When in the fall?” I asked.  “When the leaves fall.”

This entry was posted on April 16, 2014 at 5:07 pm and is filed under Not a Poet. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.