By: Ardis E. Parshall - April 20, 2017 Papa’s Treasure By Alfred Osmond Freckled face and tangled hair.Dirty hands, and rags to wear,Ways that make his father swear,Yet a precious treasure. Language that is crude and coarse,Voice that yells and gets not hoarse,Free from trouble and remorse.Papa’s little treasure. Starlight dances in his eyes,Moonlight in his dimple lies,Sunlight with his spirit vies —Papa’s fairest treasure. Sear...
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