As a baby, her mama
put a frangipani in her hair,
In baby curls of ebony,
nestled gold creamy bloom,
Everyone knew where
baby was, by fragrance in the air,
Childhood outgrew the
petals & time flew by too soon.
She became a real beauty
& upon the maid´s first waltzing,
Mama put a frangipani
in her braid, within a loving twist,
“Off you go my pretty,
to enjoy your first close dancing”,
And the scent soft
wafted, around her very first real kiss.
Upon the bride´s sleek
chignon, lay frangipani´s coronet,
Placed upon her head
by her mama, with a happy tear,
“With this tiny creamy
flower, your marriage path is set,
And with its friendly
perfume, you will never feel fear”.
With the scent of frangipanis,
the years went rushing by,
Taking with its petals,
the babe, child, maid & mother,
And as a Crone of wrinkled
groove & of milky opal eye,
Within her bun of silver
thread, frangipani & no other.
When she closed her
eyes & reached for Angel´s arms,
Her daughter combed
her hair, so silvery, long & fine,
Placing frangipani
in her hair, to compliment her charms,
Soft fragrance of her
life, now dancing through halls of time.
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