Get Your Premium Membership

Progeria

Progeria 

No one knows what to do
But to stare and be rude
When a child of four is old

They just stand there and stare
Without any care
And the child suffers the stranger’s cold

And Life may not seem fair
When a girl has no hair
Like I said, she’s only four

But she takes it in stride
And has nothing to hide
It is the stranger that is poor

So no matter the eyes
That continually spy
Into her daily play

She is the purest gold
For me to hold
And I’ll love her everyday!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006




Post Comments
Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.