Childhood once was scented blooms;
In sunlit garden rooms.
Scarlet and violet and orange and green;
Creamy yellows were often seen.
Gingerbread houses, fairies, elves;
Fairytales awoke my many selves.
Tender youth, that blushing rose!
Like the morning, glows;
And I, wildest flower of all,
Had tea parties in the hall!
I was typical, all-American, rare;
Heavy perfume in air.