Blind
It's just a face as a child,
just a face, white and mild,
that can make you go wild,
while you're losing your life.
There's only one drop in the rain,
a little smile for the insane,
that can keep a man sane while he's lame.
All the while her innocence is as pure
as a river flowing through the heart,
as deep as a look looking long into the stars.
Though as far as tomorrow
she's as near as today.
Although time passes quickly,
must our lives waste away?
P. J. Campise
