The Country Princess

A young girl born then, and raised quite wild,
Running 'round barefoot and free.
Her hair always tangled, her clothes ripped and dirty,
From climbing around tree to tree.

Her parents may have tried to raise her up proper,
To a beautiful, young lady with grace.
But to the unloving eye and the world’s hateful heart,
She was nothing less than a disgrace.



But in her heart she knew she was someone special,
Her mind was so different from others.
Her spirit was kind, she could talk to the wind,
She saw life in its all different colors.

When a painter came by looking for all life’s beauty,
To paint underneath golden skies.
He may have passed by her, not really seeing,
If not for the light in her eyes.



“Here sits a girl who prefers to be wild,
Than captive to a mean, hateful world.
Though she is the kindest, most innocent treasure,
The world all looks down on this girl.


The princess inside her is clear to be seen,
The golden crown shines brightly through.
A portrait of her I will paint if she lets me,
And sell it for a million or two.


Though sitting there quietly, in the breath of the country,
And muddy with feet in the lake.
The beauty inside her of her loving heart,
Is the portrait I wish I could take."

A princess is never the dress and the kingdom,
The fancy, the crown, or the trinkets.
It’s the love and the kindness, the magic and brightness,
All I saw in The Country Princess.




Tara J. Howard



Copyright 2014