At my window every night
There comes this little white light
With little tales about many sites
Where it soars with delight
Telling adventures that excite
And never leaving till midnight
I'll watch it fly out of sight
Never with any fright
And wish it a good night.

The next night it comes all the same
Never seeming to drain
But rather to entertain.
It acts humane
To explain
It's great day that seems insane
But yet I listen all the same.

This little light that enchanted me
Has raised me up and set me free
Where I find myself talking to a bee or chickadee
About who cuts down the Christmas tree
And about what I want to be
And about magical fairies.
About happy things that give me glee.
About the great President Kennedy.
About locked doors with special keys.
About the weird bumps on my knees.
About my best fried Marie.
About going over sea.
About my deep hatred for peas.
About my secret recipe.
But no matter how much I plea
That little light must always flee
And I'm stuck waiting for an eternity.

Then one night the light did not come
Leaving me to think alone like a bum
Sitting and picking up little crumbs
And getting teased and called dumb.
I sat and waited many nights in my glum
Chewing wads of baseball gum
While mom and dad totaled their income
Leaving me bored and sending me to the gymnasium
Where I ran and worked till I was numb
Coming home to overcome
This sorrow which left every one worrisome.

Then the years did pass
And I was done with class
Becoming part of the working class
But alas
The little light did not come to my glass.

I waited and waited praying it would
While officially growing out of childhood
Finding a man who was good
And made a livelihood.

Then one night there came a light
Which filled me full of excite.
I rushed to the window, the open the blinds
And there sitting was a great find.
My little friend stood there
Brand new and floating in the air.

A beautiful face, with rosy red cheeks
Very tiny and a slim physique.
She appeared antique
With her little wings and stood before me very meek.

"You've grown," she said
With this tone of dread.
"My little sprite
I've been waiting all my life
For you to come to my window at night.
I've grown, that is true
But I'm still the same through and through
And I've been waiting to talk with you."

At my window every night
Comes my little sprite
With tales about many site
Where she soars with delight
Telling adventures that excite
And never leaving till midnight
I'll watch her fly out of sight
And wait for that special light
To come again to my window the next night.