Child Rearing
Only a toddler, self strewn upon the Walmart floor like paper
To be swept up from its tantrums against a cuddling breast
And I saw tomorrow like a Pisa leaned on old men in distress
The error is not in them, but in the fruit brought to the table soon
Who called every dew that drenched the dawn a bitter tear
And rot the root of the breaking bud compensating for drought
A fruiting tree needs dry season to hold the blossoms firm
Mothers need tomorrow as reason little toddlers squirm
For every child is fresh foundation for the future of our years
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