LogFAQs > #954272741

My sweet, little Chuckie, though I must leave you behind me.
This poem will tell you where you always can find me.
When a gentle wind blows, that's my hand on your face.
And when the tree gives you shade, that's my sheltering embrace.
When the sun gives you freckles, that's me tickling my boy.
When the rain wets your hair, those are my tears of joy.
When the long grass enfolds you, that's me holding you tight.
When the Whippoorwill sings, that's me whispering, "Night, night."

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Bun bun :3