NOT FINISHED



'Blue skies'  by  Trish

She's not complete, she has no hands, no feet. One can tell she's blue, it would be a treat,
To take her as she is, and show her what's in store,
I tell you'd she'd never be blue anymore.

Things take time and move as they will,
Even so, tomorrow she'll see a bluebird on her sill.
So take heart, oh wooden one, just a while more,
Till joy comes a- knocking, a- knocking at your front door.

Tushie