The Fisherman’s Daughter

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Just a wild thing

running across the lawn

on feet free from shoes

hair falling from the pins

meant to keep it contained

in a yellow summer dress

handed down from an older sister

a little too big

but leaving room to move

and climb the large poplar tree

at the edge of the yard

just a free spirit

untainted by the ugly

truths of life yet to come

ignorant of the ugly

reality of life to be faced

she is just a wild thing and free

 

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This is where I grew up; Fisherman’s Island.  My dad was the fisherman.  Good memories.  My next writing project includes poems and stories from here.  My grandfather also worked here and my uncle built the cabin.  The wild spirit in me was allowed to be free here.

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