By Bree Thomas


I sit and wonder
If I am here alone
Or is anybody trying to find me
'cause I'm right here at home.
At times I'm sad.
At others I'm glad.
Sometimes I feel that I want my mother.
Hardly ever think about my father.
He's out on a limb.
He's out there somewhere
Trying to be rough and tough
Like a stone.
Sometimes I want to hug him
Like he never said goodbye
But what I'm trying to say is
I wish
He would come