Grand little girls, my pretty Georgia peaches,
Once budding dreams in my mind’s far reaches,
I have two handsome sons of whom I am most proud;
But, the joy of raising daughters God did not allow.
My little Georgia peaches are the apples of my eyes,
Hair blond yet strawberry, eyes like blueberry pie;
They get golden raisin freckles if they play in the sun.
They’re sweet as nectarines, and pretty as ripe plums.
You may think I’ve gone bananas, or crazy like comquat,
When it comes to my sweet peaches, it’s more like I’m a nut.
I’m not fruity, coconuts, full of figs, or gone kiwi;
I dreamed of having granddaughters, Who knew they’d come in peach?
-Donald R. Sansbury, 2013