I watch him every morning, as a rule,
Go past my window on his way to school.
I like his nose; I like his grown-up gait
(Unusual for a man of nearly eight).
He doesn’t know today that I ‘m alive
(There’s no room in his world for girls of five).
But three years difference in our ages, see,
Is nothing–when he reaches twenty-three!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 22, 1946
