Author: Daydreamer
Written circa 1995
Posted: February 15, 2004


He brought me a book.
"I read it all," he declared.
He brought me a rose,
plucked from a neighbor's garden,
its stem an ich long.
And when the roses were all gone,
he brought me flowering weeds.
His eyes followed me through lessons,
And when he came to me for help,
he touched my hand.

Today, he stood beside my door and smiled.
"How tall you've grown," I said.
"It's been a year," he answered,
and touched my hand again.