LITTLE GIRL AGAIN SONNET

© 2007, Wanda L. Harrell

O’, to be a little girl again, and sit up where I could clearly see it all,

so high on my daddy’s broad shoulders that I felt I was ten feet tall,

or dance around the room with my tiny shoes upon his big ones

to music that wasn’t there, swaying to his sometimes out of tune hum.

O’, to be a little girl again, sitting safely upon my daddy’s knee,

riding a knee pony while he sang Yankee Doodle and bounced me,

or purposely falling asleep downstairs so he’d carry me up to my bed

to gently lay me down to slumber and kiss me upon my forehead

O’, to be a little girl again, to experience those times once more;

when he’d buy me ice cream or candy on a trip to the country store,

or when taking my little hand in his for walks while I really tried

to keep my little girl steps up with his long, manly stride.

O’ to be a little girl again and be held in Daddy’s arms once more,

and feel as safe as the times we danced across the kitchen floor.