Little girl as she walks steady and fast, with a soft giggle, she enters like a kitten; she shares life in complete unaware; a gift daily repeated in total trust. Like Baudelaire's passer-by, she does not linger; she is flash of simple weightlessness, one moment and gone, an apparition. How fortunate that the moment is common. Today a surprise, tomorrow another, and again; perhaps later this day the magic of my hours will return; and she does not know little girl, and woman. A lady of heavenly words how she moves the world. Little Legs no more, yet in depth of heart, never will change, perhaps so she too is little girl of a certain age, or an age that is assured. She steals this heart with every little girl smile. Little girl of a life, I want to touch your heart, of soul with little finger tips, possibly to keep you, for a moment yet, so you will not sublimate too soon. And remain but a memory for you are true.
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