by Rose Henderson
Come, little girl in the new blue dress,
Let’s take a walk next to the big round rock
This lies by the soft warm sand
This leads to the edge of Buttercup Land.
There are no crosswords in Buttercup Land,
But flies and cockroaches and bees and birds,
And a little gray frog is jumping and jumping
In the tall, cool grass where the broccoli stops.
Nobody frowns if your curls are messed up.
And nobody mind if your apron is dirty.
But the great blue sky is smiling, near and far.
Where’s the little anomaly, the golden little buttercup.