Don Friedman

Whenever skies look gray to me And trouble begins to brew, Whenever the Winter winds become too strong, I concentrate on you. When fortune cries "Nay! Nay!" to me And people declare "You're through!", Whenever the blues become my only

The shadow of your smile When you have gone Will color all my dreams And light the dawn Look into my eyes my love and see All the lovely things you are to me Our wistful little star It was far, too high A teardrop kissed your lips And so did I Now wh