As I gaze into the mirror
A voice whispers in my ear
A reminder of my debut
Bliss, emotion and a tear,
Staring into each shop window
Admiring Easter Bonnets
Primrose yellow my first choice
With all the frills upon it.
Marching with the big Grand Marshal
To the drumming of the beat,
Flags blow gently in the breeze
From the lampposts on the street.
I feel like I am dreaming
It all seems so surreal,
Drums beat louder, we march along,
It’s true, “The dream is real”
Nora Fleming
No comments :
Post a Comment