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All their peach faces have now bowed their heads,
Eighteen lovely roses cut from their beds.

In their wilt lies a sadness I have known
Of inferior complexities tone.

Seeing them like this caused me to recall
Tortures of childhood from when I was small.

Unfriendly faces greeted me at school.
Over and over I felt such a fool.

It's hard to make friends when you're the new kid.
Shy and obnoxious, followed, I just hid.

Then just as I finally found a friend,
Uprooted from that home, it would all end.

I felt like a nomad moving around.
No place to call home, staid on solid ground.

With humble clothing and holes in my shoes
It didn't take much to give me the blues.

But children grow up, and when they have grown
They can make a new life to call their own.

Yet there are still shadows that linger on
From the sadness of childhood, now long gone.

My kids had it better, this I made sure.
No school after school for them to endure.

But we all have lessons to help us learn...
There-in lies the gold that love helps us earn.

© July 19, 2016

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