I WONDER HOW THEY CAN.
A girl that does not know the trip she has in life
for me is like a bud forced to a world of frost.
I look at her and think of what her road will hide,
which makes my heart go soft and rue the heartless world.

I yearn to catch her hand and hide her from soft rain.
It's head can't keep straight up under the weight of dew.
I seek a way to hide her where it's safe and warm.
I cry when l see her with thornless stem she stands.

How can cruel egoists pluck her for just a smell
and throw her in the mud to face that fate alone?
Am l a stupid man or are they made like beasts
whose hunger has the word to **** the frailest lamb?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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