Samantha At Two Poem by Bryan Taplits

On gilded foot, and feathered wings
She barely meets the ground,
And woe is us,
Until the buss:
Ascension has been found.
All sinners slake at her bare feet,
And dare glance at her eyes.
A moued look
Confused, Bemused
With beams that fairly fly.
A furtive kiss,
A swift hidden hug
And then she deigns move on,
Commanding all, her subjects fall,
To kneel upon the rug.
So small is she
(She's only two)
And yet I plainly see
How mountains can, without a plan,
Concede, by time, to sea.