She wore a lace skirt
A little tattered at the edges
Her feet were bare and dirt found itself lying there
Among the grass and pebbles
Her hair was long and blonde and hadn't been cut for ages
The novel in her hand spoke of a girl who's always dreaming
The faint and fading smile on her lips is why
The birds always stopped their songs
Whenever she began to cry
She loved the forested ground more than
Any carpeted floor inside
She was born wild and free
And never once lost her spark along the way
Her hands are stained from fountain pens and memories
That heart of hers stained ever more
For a girl like her
Always has love knocking on the door
