The Little Princess

With the sun high, was it a summer day bright,
Green trees, chirpping birds and the river flowing - ah! a sight.
Decided to blossom - a little bud at the time right.

With little hands wrapped around fingers comforting,
For tired souls are her pearl eyes re-assuring,
Hunger cries melt the toughest hearts, tiny features pleasing.
Abigail do we call her, with "Princess" a title befitting.