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The spiders she collects are such....
Adults can only leer....
Adults would never enter where....
My daughter has no fear....
While frogs and snakes would also prove....
She has variety....
Her mother somehow feels that they....
Should leave captivity....
And sport, to her is climbing trees....
Whose limbs are much too weak....
The height to which she climbs would make....
Her future outlook bleak....
Such bravery from my daughter....
Is so common, day by day....
And night-time comes so often....
Interrupting every day....
But when she whispers softly....
As I touch a wayward curl....
“Please leave the lights on, Dad,” I know....
She’s still my “Little Girl.”....
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