The poem br only exists on your breath. br br In the rise and fall of your telling. br br It will be another 40 years br before I see it written in a book br br ...and tears come unbidden. br br I a little boy br crying for a little boy blue br br who tells his toys to wait for him br until the morning comes... br br but being good Victorian melodrama br the little boy dies. br br Still the toys wait... br br for the touch of his hand br br ...that will never come. br br In the real live boy br that I am br br there isn't a dry eye br and I cry and cry the house down.