To the Little Girl


A little girl
In front of me
With chocolate eyes
And light blond hair

She comes to me
Her hand hid behind
She brings it to front
And then lets me see

"Oh, Mum, oh see,
what I have found!"
Her hand is covered
with foams so white

"The fountain there, see,
It has bubbles inside!"
I can't hold my laugh
She looks up and smiles

Her father then comes
He's working all day
His icy blue eyes
Look tired indeed

His silver white head
comes down to my lips
He kisses me tight
His hands on my hips

And all the way I
Just wonder how's come
That we are together
After what was in school

We were enemies bitter
Never talked one with other
And now I can't say
Why it was, did it matter?

'Cause we are together
'Till Death us aparts
And I love him with all,
With my soul and my heart




A/N: I wrote this after an encounter in town in summer 2001. I was sitting on a bank and next to me, there was a man. And then there was this little girl. The man's daughter, I think. She couldn't have been older than 2-3 years. She ran around happily and then went to the fountain that stands in the middle of the town square. She came back, her hand covered in white foam and claimed to her father "Daddy, look what I've found!" She looked so happy and pleased. I don't know her name, I'm also sure that I'll never see her again, but this poem is for her - the little girl from town square in her flower-patterned dress and with her light blond hair. It's for her, because if it wasn't for her, it wouldn't excist.