How that the strange dirty children
Squabble and cry
Like the gulls at the water-side!
Or like the naked howl
Of dogs abandoned in the rain.
To hear the violent pain
Of all their parents
"go away's".
Like knitting needles
Raking through my brain
I was often told the same
My heart still remembers.
Confined by fences
Gates and and walls.
One voice rise another falls
Silent.
Yet I have no strength to complain
They only hear children at play
They are good at ignoring.
To you it must just sound like noise
Pink grubby glitter girls
And such lost boys.
No sitting in their mother's arms.
No soft words.
No time.
As though tenderness was not to bless.
Sweetness can not spoil.
No comments:
Post a Comment