Song of a Broken Child
(Let us be good to our little children, and apologize to them when we fail. They remember.)
When a child has no true tongue for pain
and its father’s lips are sapped
by a billion cares,
and the first real cry for help is met with rage
then fear scribbles blank each black page.
Who said that learning is about a’s or f’s
or that the world is less then imagination's meat?
A father who shakes with fury breaks a spine
and no one celebrates a broken child with bubbled wine.
/Blake Steele