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| Full Circle |
It quite escapes me what she wore that night
When, gay-bedecked, she left for her first dance;
I've searched my mind rememb'ring if I might,
Aught but her fleeting smile, her hopeful glance,
Her wistful youth, so dewy-fresh and new,
How tremulous her face, how like a rose
The faint blush which from her excitement grew
And threatened to o'erspread her powdered nose;
I only know a lump grew in my throat;
I thought it would constrict my breathing, sure,
As, woodenly, I waited with her coat
And, mother-proud, watched her float across the floor
To where her partner stood, well-groomed and straight,
Waiting to take her on a daddy date.
-- Evalyn M. Sandberg |
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