Running in the cold
She smiles
And smiles
As she runs to me
Holding a wooden doll
Smiling with placid grin
.
She asks me
To play with her
To go to the merry-go-round
And spin it for her
In the wind
.
I put my windy hair
In my cap
And walk up to her
With a baby-voice
.
She glares
Telling me
She’s not a child
But as she runs
I see her smile
And the red
On her cold cheeks