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In the dawn When my toes are cold They spread their little trinkets on the ground In the hall By the closet door They creep into my bed without a sound On a cube In a plastic egg A hundred fabric figures in a pile See them march Toward me in a line And dance across the floor in single file Little faces keep no track of time Little faces speaking out in rhyme Little faces smiling in my mind Tiny doors For walking through While sticky fingers clutch forbidden things And the phone For talking through They often pull the cable when it rings Sinking ships On a foamy sea That roll and tumble slowly from the motion of their filthy Little hands Their little hands Little faces keep no track of time Little faces speaking out in rhyme Little faces smiling in my mind In the dark When their eyes are wide They listen to the secrets that I tell In a ball On their tiny beds Or beneath them where the shadow people dwell And the moon Beams that split the night Leave bars of yellow pasted on their faces As they drift into a dream In a dream Little faces keep no track of time Little faces speaking out in rhyme Little faces smiling in my mind Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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