Your day will come little girl, little girl,
Be patient today and tomorrow.
Sip gently the nectar of awakening love,
Deep drafts are harbingers of sorrow.*
Guard wisely the blush of your opening bud-
One blossom is all you're allotted.
The body betrays and the heart is deceived
In throes of first passion besotted.
For many a dewdrop of love comes your way
To pluck at impatient heart strings,
But dew drops evaporate in the sun's ray,
Sip gently awaiting well-springs.
That first gentle thrill as your petals unfurl,
Like a breeze passing over the skin,
Can turn to a tempest and rage uncontrolled
To lead you astray from within.
Pluck not the bud and hand careless away-
No bud that is plucked ever blossoms
'Til down the footpaths of your slated day
True love will at last come a-walking.
*harbinger: a precedent; to go before