Walking With Alice Anne

By Carrie E. Joslin 

 

Down a quiet city street, I used to wander,
     Taking Alice Anne for sun and air,
Pausing where the shrubs and trees grew thickest,
     Just to watch unfriendly fox squirrels playing there.

Walking very slowly down the sidewalk,
     Trying to match my steps with Alice Anne's,
Gathering flowers that grew along the pathway,
     To fill the little dimpled, waiting hands.

Stopping now and then to watch the workmen,
     As they mowed the grass and trimmed the trees,
Gazing at the graceful weeping willows'
     Slender branches as they shook and trembled in the breeze.

And, when at last the walk is ended,
     And Alice Anne is tired and sleepy too,
I tuck her in her crib beside the window,
     And listen while she laughs, and talks and coos.

©circa late 1940's Carrie E. Joslin

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