| Little Face Little face, looks up at me Whatcha doing, with you I wanna be. No joy on Earth can remotely match Little hands, that reach to latch. Now I�m old and silence looms Days are long and dust it blooms. Friends die off, family is gone Though in my mind, still crisp as dawn. Little face, looks up at me Whatcha doing, with you I wanna be. No joy on Earth can remotely match Little hands, that reach to latch. Paul Fresco Fort Worth, Texas Copyright �2002 Paul Fresco All rights reserved. BACK E-MAIL This one was inspired by my neighbor. |