I held a little rose, her soft, pink hand
She took two steps for every one of mine
We walked three blocks from Prince Street down to Grand
She made me read the names on every sign
We stopped in several shops to look at dolls
And several more to find an Easter dress
She asked me if I knew what “plams” were for
I told her that I couldn’t even guess
She smiled at my not knowing her new word
She gave my hand a squeeze then let it go
She fluttered to a window like a bird
Transfixed upon a pretty little bow
“Oh daddy, it’s the perfect shade of pink!”
“I love you daddy. Daddy, do you think . . .”
Original Published on: Apr 5, 2008 @ 14:44
I held her hand, a little soft pink rose
She took two steps for every one of mine
We walked eight blocks from Standish to Repose
She made me read the name on every sign
We stopped in several shops to look at dolls
And several more to find an Easter dress
She asked me if I knew what “plams” were for
I told her that I couldn’t even guess
She smiled at my not knowing her new word
She gave my hand a squeeze then let it go
She fluttered to a window like a bird
Transfixed upon a pretty little bow
“Oh daddy, it’s the perfect shade of pink!”
“I love you daddy. Daddy, do you think . . .”
This sonnet was originally entitled “Window Shopping”