Three little girls walk hand in petite hand,
matching pink swimsuits,
carefree giggles, squeals of delight,
a stiff wind chilling their sun-kissed shoulders.
Each freckle popping in the sun.
They don’t know that if you shake a soda can,
It’ll explode, and that there are more stars than they can see.
All they know is that they’re best friends
who wish they were sisters.
The days of pretty ponies and Repunzel,
the days of letting your imagination and soul run free.
Letting little girls laugh and letting little girls cry.
The days of letting little girls be little girls.