Freckles, you have blossomed into a wild rose.
From the little Tom Boy who had a stick horse.
The tom boy inside you competed with the boys.
You had grown wild with a hot temper you know.
From that little wild bud to such a beautiful rose.
Your smile is sweet and my eyes can't behold.
You still have a temper and little freckles galore.
The red of your hair touches my soul and glows.
Even though you will always be innocently naive.
I will love my wild rose, and my red headed angel.
Though the seasons pass in my heart for eternity.
I will treasure you sweet rose forever in my soul.
My little tomboy who finally grew into a rosebud.
You became my rosebud after fifty loving years.
You're no longer a tomboy but a beautiful rose.
That I pick for mine a long time ago in my past.
© Copyright 2001 Kings (UN: piewhackett1 at Writing.Com).
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