It seems wherever I go<o:p></o:p>
People come into my life or go out of it<o:p></o:p>
Touching me where I feel<o:p></o:p>
Then leaving me only a memory<o:p></o:p>
Like the Gossamer fairy tales of children<o:p></o:p>
Easily forgotten<o:p></o:p>
And I wasn’t through knowing them<o:p></o:p>
How do I know<o:p></o:p>
Who I am seeing for the last time?<o:p></o:p>
How do you halt your life to gather and keep<o:p></o:p>
All those close to you<o:p></o:p>
That you’ve ever known?<o:p></o:p>
And how do you keep fairy tales from losing their magic?<o:p></o:p>
So come<o:p></o:p>
Brush against the walls of my life<o:p></o:p>
And stay long enough for us to know each other<o:p></o:p>
Even though we’ll have to part sometime<o:p></o:p>
And we both know<o:p></o:p>
The longer you stay<o:p></o:p>
The more I’ll want you when you are gone.<o:p></o:p>
But come anyway<o:p></o:p>
For fairy tales are the happiest stories we read<o:p></o:p>
And great books are made of little chapters.<o:p></o:p>