“Daddy, Daddy, I can’t see.”
I reached up expectantly
And looked into my tall dad’s face.
Hoped to find on him a place
To see what he could see,
When I was only three.

Patiently, he stooped his height
And let me scale to view the sight.
He stood up so straight and tall
That I could view what he could—all.
That panorama set me free
When I was only three.

I piggy-backed a long, long while
Till I no longer was a child.
Now I gaze out on my own
Because of what to me was shown
By my dad who helped me see
When I was only three.