If one day I happen to lose my way,
I ponder where to begin my search for me,
To find the face in the mirror,
Which now is a stranger to see.

But a start I must make, somewhere,
What better place than childhood’s lair.
So I’ll go to little Sarah, with her drawing sheets,
Her sketch pens, and creative feats.

“Draw my face,” I’ll gently plead,
No one else could meet this need.

Or perhaps to that Sarah,...