She came with August’s marigold sun,
Serenaded by the carousel,
And candied-apple sweet.
She was doe-eyes and hush-a-byes,
Wrapped in angel’s wings,
And party-dress pink.
Joyously the red birds sang:
“What, what-cheer! She’s-here-here-here!”
Proudly the Nemean roared!
What kismet, karma, or will divine
Designed such bountiful treasure
With hope to make me whole?
So I named her pure and musical,
Breathed in her abundant promise,
Vowed to be deserving.
She was magic; she was enchantment,
And she held my swelling heart in the palm
Of her tiny hand.