Antoinette Marcelle Poem by Evelyn Judy Buehler

Some don't know her very well-
My sister, Antoinette Marcelle;
A reserved and silent beauty,
To see her is a pleasantry.

Though she is much younger than me,
We two are the youngest of three.
A gift from our father, Marzell,
Is the second name of Antoinette Marcelle.

Summer days are peachy keen,
A flower grows where none has ever been!
And is therefore rarer than rare,
For others are abloom elsewhere.

Antoinette Marcelle, a wishing well!
And birds sing in the dell,
And shadows chase the sound of song,
As they dart and flit along.

With my brother, we are three,
Side by side in destiny;
But youngest of us is Antoinette Marcelle,
The last button on Jacob's coattail.