A doll house is all straight and
neat,
Each piece of furniture in place and complete,
And so it was with Ura May’s place in town,
Not a speck of dust to be found.
Little one with freshly ironed dress,
All so lovely and crisp, I confess,
There was nothing more to adore,
Than her home with shining floor.
She had a huge cat all of fuss
With no color and no boots, plus,
Her dainty paws were always just so,
And then, her long fur as white as snow.
I was only eight at the time,
But Ura May and I were in line,
No one understood our relationship,
But she knew, and never did slip,
From big sister to her own little sister,
Quiet times together and sometimes to whisper.
That was her way, you see, of teaching,
Best loved because she wasn’t ever preaching.
A glance, an eyebrow raised, a word or two,
She was compatible and true.
No one ever loved her as much as I,
And for the life of me, I wonder why.
See
http://www.flickr.com/photos/thepack/199310755/
