It’s my face
I don’t think about my face very often, because I live behind it. But
other people notice it. Sometimes they don’t seem to believe I look like
myself.
Grandma thinks I’m like her side of the family.
Mother says I’m like her. But Dad says he thinks I’ll look like him when
I grow up.
Uncle Bill says we have funny faces.
And everyone says my brother and I look as much alike as twins.
But my face doesn’t really look exactly like anyone else’s.
My eyes are blue. Mother’s are brown.
I have freckles. Dad hasn’t a one.
Grandma’s face is kind. But she has wrinkles. I looked and looked, and I
can’t see one wrinkle on my face.
Uncle Bill is jolly and we laugh a lot together. Maybe when we’re
laughing we look a little alike. But not very much.
My brother does have freckles like mine, and blue eyes like mine. But
his ears stick out more than mine do.
Maybe I look a little bit like Mothei’ and Dad and Grandma and Uncle
Bill and my brother. But no face anyplace is exactly like mine.
I think I look like ME.
