Musings About A Girl With A Sweet Smile.
A girl of ten,
In her new nautical outfit
In the long ago,
Smiling her sweet smile.
She was the beloved only child
Of her mother,
Holding a basket of flowers,
Smiling her sweet smile.
I have gazed at her picture,
Hundreds of times, as I wondered about her.
What was she like
The girl with the sweet smile?
But I will never know,
And will always wonder
About the girl with the flower basket,
Smiling her sweet smile.
She went to Heaven
On a cold January day
In the long ago, at the age of nineteen,
The girl with the sweet smile.
I'm not a poet, by any means, so these are only little musings in memory of my mother, who died when I was just 5 weeks old, the second week of January 1937, of pneumonia, in Mosorin, Hungary. The photograph is old and faded, and it's the only picture I have of her.
