Poor Little Laura

Poor Laura Mabry Everyone called her a baby It made her little face look so sad. But why was she teased? What was so bad? What was about her that made the other children All seem so glad? I wanted to find it out So I jumped into time Melting clocks flew by me I recognized one as mine. Suddenly I fell out into a school yard I knew it was Laura’s “Time for recess!” I heard Mrs. Morris. The kids ran out And trampled my head But it didn’t hurt It was as if I were dead For they didn’t see me But I saw poor Laura Sitting under a tree. No friends surrounded her No jump ropes or dolls Just her face in her hands Shielding from taunting calls. “A baby! A baby! A baby is she!” I jumped up in defense, “What has she done, for that tease to be?” But no one had seen me Or heard me, at that So I reached down and dusted off my hat “I’m don’t have a clue; I’m leaving and that’s that!” So I’m not there any more, and why a baby is she That will remain a mystery to me. I give up, rather easy, you see, But what’s already happened has happened; That’s why it’s called history.