I look for him,

In the fog of the early morn.

I know he won’t be there,

But still I wait, and hope

For a glisten of his boat

At the edge of the horizon,

For the sound of his voice

To come rolling off the waves.

He’ll smile when he sees me,

He’ll sit me on his knee,

He may even have a gift

That I will cherish every day.

There’ll be many stories to be told,

And I’ll just sit and listen

Just happy that he’s there,

But I know that will not happen.

One day he will come to me,

And when that day comes

I’ll be here waiting

In the fog of the early morn.