There’s a little boy sitting on a stone
All alone
There’s a little girl hiding in a tree
Far from home
There’s an old lady telling
Stories of her past
There is no-one to hear her
Nobody near her
Each word may be her last
Her tears they fall like rain
Her body racked with pain
Still that little boy sits
On a stone
That little girl hides in a tree
I am here writing poems
On my own, safe at home
Thoughts take wings and grow
If thoughts are spoken
Can the spell be broken?
Will someone reap
Loving thoughts we sow
In our waking hours
Or in our sleep
These precious souls
To keep