The Eyes Of A Child |
| by Terri |
An old man was sitting
on a bench in the park,
his clothes were all tattered
his eyes had no spark.
He was feeding the pigeons
some old dried up bread,
as he threw his last piece
here's what he said;
Well, little birds,
I've nothing to give,
this place is a mess,
this world where we live.
The rapes and the killings
are driving me mad,
on most every street corner
you see something sad;
I cannot change things
my age is against me,
The new generation
can help make it healthy.
I'll be looking from Heaven
with a smile so wide,
If these things could be changed
using a child as your guide.
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