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Dalena |
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Dalena was slightly thin, a frail |
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With big feet and knobby knees |
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When she painted red her finger nails |
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The polish always made her sneeze |
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Her hair was full and darkest brown |
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Her eyes were gray as a winter morn |
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She slept most nights in an evening gown |
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That she had hardly ever worn |
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Her hands were dainty; her fingers long |
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Her skinny legs were as tall as pines |
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But her voice was a melodious song |
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When she spoke from time to time |
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Her teeth were straight and white as milk |
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With an English gap in the middle two |
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When she spoke her head would tilt |
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Then she smiled when she looked at you |
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©11/12/09Terry Sutherland |
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
