Wednesday, April 1, 2015

May Child

It was a cold morning in May.

They had a fire going in the fireplace.

Unusual for May this far down in the South to be so chilly.

She almost starved to death as a newborn.

Innocent, shy and unassuming, she wasn’t aware of her beauty.

She was so like her father, old fashioned, in every wonderful way.

She sang with the purity of an angel.


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