His lap awaiting; my bum to sitting. The brush in his hand; my long locks a stand.
Daddy and I
The weekend is here. Many books to be found, for the library is near. One of us rides on shoulders so high; the other walks cheerfully beside.
Daddy, Donald, and I
The christmas season is fastly approaching. There are dozens of stockings, for the needy, to be making. The sewing machine is out, the material is cut, the needles are threaded. And now the project is completed.
Daddy and I
The bugs are biting; my bum is attacked. I sit to rest on a log that is slivered. The tweezers are found with my bum in the air shivered.
Daddy and I
The sun is yet to arise in the mountains so high. There is a call to awake, to help, breakfast to make.
Daddy, donald, and I
The tea is a seeping. The bread is a baking. The bus just pulled up then we are partaking.
Daddy and I
Dedicated to my loving Daddy
With all my love
Ernest Constante Onorati
02-18-30 to 08-15-98
Theresa Ann Onorati Walton
