Little Faces

                                  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