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Wanda L. Harrell

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Member Since: Before 2003

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by Wanda L. Harrell

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© 2000, Wanda L. Harrell
Dedicated to my still beloved father, a man who is sorely missed 25 years later.

She leaned her head over into the profusion of yellow.

The little girl giggled, in childish delight,

For the daffodils tickled her nose.

The sunshine color of the flowers

Mirrored in her dancing green eyes.

Her tiny little hands clutched a bouquet, all askew,

For it was gathered solely by her, in juvenile haste.

Springtime was aglow around her, and in her,

As she ran down the dusty lane toward the creek.

Her excitement was enormous for such a tiny tot.

Her curls joyfully bounced, as her tiny feet began to skip,

Then hop, then walk, then skip again.

She sang a little tune, her song of delight, serenading the day,

And anything, or anyone within the sound of her voice.

Suddenly, she stopped her bouncing gait, and became solemn.

With the yellow daffodils still clutched within her tiny hands,

She looked upward, into the crystalline blue of the sky.

The tiny bouquet, now more awry from the jostling journey,

Was laid on the railing of the small wooden bridge.

She leaned forward, with her elbows resting

On the rough wood of the bridge’s banister,

With her tiny, dimpled chin cupped within her hands, she said,

“Daddy, I know you are up there in Heaven with God,

And, if you aren’t too busy, will you please listen to me for a minute?

“Daddy, it’s me and I miss you.

I miss standing with you on this bridge,

And looking down into the water below.

I miss you telling me to be careful and not to fall.

I miss you holding my hand while I walk with you.

Daddy, I know that you love me,

And please, Daddy, know that I love you.

These yellow flowers are for you, Daddy.

I really think they’re pretty, don’t you?

I hope they make you smile,

‘Cause they make me smile.”

With her thoughts now expressed, she stood erect,

Her dark curls glistened in the Springtime sunlight.

Quickly she turned and ran back toward the patch of yellow,

From where she had been minutes ago.

She extended her hand once again into the golden bounty,

But instantly turned and looked upward once more.

“Daddy, I am sorry to bother you again,

But is it okay if I have some of these pretty flowers?

Is it okay if I take some home to tickle my nose?”

For a moment only the sounds of buzzing insects were heard.

Then she smiled her delicate little smile, and said,

“Thank you, Daddy.  I  just knew you would want me to be happy.”

Cheerfully, she began plucking the flowers from the patch of lemon color,

That was underneath the clear sky from where her daddy smiled at her.


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Reviewed by Brittany Renée 6/21/2003
A beautiful tear-jerker. Heaven's stars are shimmering love upon this poem just now and I think the stardust landed in the little girls' eyes ;)

Warm Love
Reviewed by Retta (Reindeer) Mckenzie 6/21/2003
This was so beautiful, just lovely!

Reviewed by Nicole Davis Vergara (Reader) 6/21/2003
A lovely dedication...and a lovely pic too!
Blessing to you!
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 6/21/2003
beautiful write, wanda! (((HUGS))) :)

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