The Little Girl Down the Road

The little girl down the road,
Her wavy hair,
Her brown eyes.

She peers out, over the street through the window,
Standing on her favorite green stool,
Waiting for Dad to get home.

She waits all day, and sometimes night,
Waiting for the day, the day to come.
She just stands, stands on that green stool of hers.

Perhaps tomorrow,
Or the day after,
Or maybe when Spring flowers bloom again.

She doesn't know,
How could she?
But still, she just stands on her little green stool.

Dad's not coming home, Dad's not coming home.