' I'm wearing black', she said. <br />'From blouse to underwear', <br />it was the first time that she had <br />asserted her autonomy <br />at home. She now was just fifteen. <br /> <br />Her mother tried to give the <br />girl some guidance. <br />She didn't like this early fascination. <br />A barely budding tiny little bosom, <br />in certain circles would be a sensation. <br /> <br />Her father took one look <br />at his own girl. <br />And smiled, benignly, <br />then -with grin - opined: <br />'Have fun my dear, <br />give it a real whirl! <br />You're black, at night <br />that makes you hard to find'.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/growing-up-9/
