There once was a child named Cheryl.
Two hands and two feet, with five fingers and five toes upon those, and an itsy bitsy nose and a smile that would make her eyes sparkle.
There once was a young girl, called Cheryl, who thought playing in the dirt was such a treat, or dessert.
Out in the fresh air, under the sun, she thought life was FUN.
Riding bikes, skipping stones, running or just playing. Life was full of wonder and joy.
The eldest of three, she grew up to be; in a city she was raised. She had plenty of cats, fostered many baby birds and even had a pet squirrel.
There once was a young woman, called Cheryl, who graduated at sixteen, married at eighteen; a mother she became, at nineteen.
To the mountains she would move; this lifestyle she heartily approved!
Chickens, ducks and geese…they all flocked around her feet.
Deer would come, and deer would go; wild turkeys would, too.
And Winter…the cabin on Potts Mountain was her home.
Year after year, it was home still, even when abandoned at 38.
Living all alone, except for her dog, upon the mountains she would trod! One step at a time, she would carefully plod, until the ridge she had won.
There once was a girl called Cheryl and upon the mountain she would thrill! Up and down the ridges she would run. Joy would fill her soul as she would reach low to touch the waters of the valleys and rise again to the warmth of the Sun.