Poet Child

Her mother gave her hair of caramel
streaked throughout with thin vanilla strands,
and on her face a sprinkling of small freckles
to match those on her legs, arms, feet and hands.
The slightly-tilted corners of her eyes,
the dimples in her cheeks, her dainty chin,
combine in such a way that strong men sigh
when she so much as flashes them a grin.
She's like a tiny elf, a leprechaun,
she seems to come and go on magic wings.
She disappears at dusk and then at dawn
she reappears adorned with fairies' rings.
And no one knows what visions deep and wild
have etched upon the mind's eye of this child.