As the firelight burns low, I hear them—

Their harmonicas humming, soft voices

Singing of long lost loves,

Or newfound in a flame red glow.

As I walk by the old stone church,

Their hymns of praise roll out

Like thunder on the hills at night.

Far distant, a sound like jewels sparkling:

Voices that grow slowly higher as I walk.

Glorious tenors, baritones caress

As sopranos and mezzos strike the harp

At the concert hall. I cry out loud—

Oh, America! Your hosts awake the Earth

When you sing of your past, your future,

But most of all when you sing

Out of sheer pleasure in the music.

It is morning.

I’m still alive.

One more chance

To escape this.

I remember, vaguely,

Being accepted

By society—now,

Doors are closed.

Everyone turns away.

Whatever I do,

It’s rejected.

My skin reeks of fear,

I am wet

With the perspiration

Of despair.

Tell, if you know,

Am I already

Condemned?

I’m still me,

Here, inside—

Can’t you see?

Unless you help,

I shall remain

Without a home.

#cheerupthelonelyday

Vote for me this time.

I will listen to your rhyme,

Forgive any of your mistakes,

Send you a birthday cake,

Collect all the taxes,

Send you some cloth sacks

To cover your nakedness.

unpublicserviceday

What so attracts all small children

To worms, pansies and puppy dog tails,

Mud puddles, toilet bowls and snails?

Why crawl under beds, chairs and tables,

Into flower beds, cupboards and drawers,

After cats, dogs and almost anyone

Going anyplace away from home?

What makes candy tastes better with dirt

To almost any small child anywhere?

Cannot any of them eat their food

Without getting it into their hair, on their clothes,

Their faces, the table, floor and everywhere?

But, should I protest so much

When that sleeping face looks so angelic,

When two small hands hug my neck,

Or one small body falls asleep

While I am reading a bedtime story?

What is that magic spell that all

Small children cast on all of us

Who are no longer young?

There has been an angel on my shoulder

All the days of my life this far.

When I was five, she saved my life by

Slowing my descent as I fell from

A one story platform onto some rocks.

When I was seven, she helped me swim

Out of the quarry pond I had fallen into.

The next time she showed up

Was in fifth grade, when three boys

Decided to trash me. She came as a young girl

Who went after those boys, scratching,

Pulling hair, poking her fingers so fast

Those boys couldn’t run fast enough to get away.

Then when I slipped on that small cliff,

She made sure I landed softly enough

That only a large bruise spot showed up.

I heard her whisper into my ear,

Don’t skate on that ice-covered pond.

Good thing I listened because

My best friend, Bill, fell through.

Luckily, we rescued him using

An old tree branch lying nearby.

#worldinternationalchilderensday