I hear them laughing,
to, with and at.
They are laughing,
not caring,
who is skinny,
who is fat.

Though they poke,
and tease,
and play with one another,
they are not as concerned,
at the moment,
at finding a lover.

What love is this?
That one can open up and accept a stranger,
what language is needed to cross this barrier?

I found that,
it doesn't take much
for a child to make a friend,
as a writer once said,
"In order to make a friend, be one"
and I have done that to all,
leaving out none.

But their's something about
children laughing,
that, in their own right, is pure and sweet,
that they are invincible,
that they will never taste defeat.

Or Loss.

Not yet.

I hear the children laughing,
outside, where they play.

I hear them laughing,
laughing away the day.

I hear them, I hear them,
Oh how sweet the sound,
what sweet joy and blessings they are,
I hope that that'll be the last that I hear,
just before I'm no longer around.

Laughter,
of children, young and old,
for the laughter of friends,
weak and bold,
is much sweeter and worth much more
than any amount of gold.

So let the laughter ring,
through the valleys and hills,
through the summers, fall, winter and spring.

Let laughter be my chorus,
for which my heart sings.

Because one day, of my own time,
I'll have that which they are having,
my own little children, laughing.