Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2021
A child lays down and wants to sleep,
Some kind of love, some kind of peace,
A fragile child who has learned no fear,
Her parents are close, both are so near.

She breathes and yawns as she does,
Outside her window, now waits a dove,
The hate to come must now be learned,
A sad reminder, a curse she'll earn.

The dove so patiently stands so tall,
Her parents show her, show her all,
With differences, all people show,
Of worldly things, she does not know.

From birth, we are most a clean slate,
We know no prejudice, know no hate,
We do not steal, we do not reap,
Or do we have what we can't keep?

The little children playing at school,
Have they been taught the Golden Rule?
What people will they all become,
With eyes darkened, hearts so numb?

When they awake, these young people,
Who works so hard to climb a steeple,
Then pushing others far, far aside,
They can not linger, they can not hide.

These lessons come with many years,
We're taught to separate and to fear,
Grind all who are different into the ground,
Humanity lost goes round and round.

The little child wakes up and now sees,
Her parents laughing, she wants to be,
But, will she learn that love paves the way,
For better lives and most loving days?

The little child won't know.
Written by
Carl Gene Hardwick  65/M/Arizona
Please log in to view and add comments on poems