The branches of the trees,
Danced in the breeze,
Red tulips and light pink carnations
Filled the gardens of the park.

A pink parasol was held,
In a woman's hand,
As she strolled upon the land.
Making everyone stop and stare.

'How lovely,' they would say.
'This woman with a parasol,
Who needs nothing more at all,
Then a simple walk in the park
Before the setting sun turns the sky dark.'

Her cheeks blushed red
At the compliments that were said.
Parasol in hand she began to walk on,
Lonely as she seemed, of the park she was fond.

Her beauty was admired,
Her humility inspired.
They never really knew her
But they never wanted to lose her.

She never said much
Just walking slowly as she clutched,
Her perfectly pink parasol
That made her famous, for once and for all.