freckle-face, pedal pushers and a pony tail,
pedaling her bike all over town,
twelve years old and on the cusp
just before learning how to curl her hair,
in days when she believed
"All I Have To Do is Dream"
a whistle would make her day,
a downturned, self-conscious smile
but she wouldnt look,
just pedal faster,
home to check in the mirror,
make sure her pony tail was still flying high........
almost but not quite ready to
"Catch a Falling Star"
then hours of mooning in her room,
heart bursting with dreams and longing,
playing her small box record player
and wailing to Connie Francis:
"Where the Boys Are........"
She was waiting for her real life
to begin.
