Marty |
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If they covered up the sun, Marty could give off shine, The poor sun to be outdone By that bright boy of mine. When he smiles, lifting his lips, Letting the laughter out, From towhead to finger tips April begins to sprout. Spring is there for all to share, Green as a tropic Isle. Liveliness and youth are there Twinkling in Marty�s smile. If every cloud disappeared, Marty could make a storm, Churning the sky until you feared The night might never warm. Once the imprints of a frown Darken his brow, Beware ! A spirit pained pulls him down, Where temper grabs the dare. Life to him is always all. He knows no other way, A loud, piercing trumpet-call, Never a whispered gray. He must touch his world, feel it throb, Laugh as the tendrils flit, Observe it dance, hear it sob, Be touched in turn, by it. Glow, Marty, dazzle and gleam! Conquer December gloom. Aim your vital, boisterous beam Here where the shadows loom. What rare heights with him we�ve flown. �Oh, that breathtaking view! The fair summers we have known Are worth a storm or two |
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