To A Little

Girl,
Running hand in hand
in hand
with her Abba,
wearing his jacket;
It is chilly,
and you were chilly, and he is big and strong and warm.
and he shrugged off his jacket,
and he put it on you.
The jacket hangs to your knees,
turns your thin arms into large black wings,
warms your shoulders
And brightens the gray, gray day
with both of your matching bright eyes,
your identical smiles.