There’s a child you may know
Who was placed in a row
In a field between flowers and weeds
It’s a garden of stone
Where we never atone
For the longings that outweigh our needs
There’s a father who looks
In a pile of old books
Full of photos from happier days
But he can’t find the one
That looks just like his son
Who was lost in the mess that he made
There’s a girl that we know
Who sat in the third row
Of a school where the child learned to pray
Now she keeps to herself
With her faith on a shelf
But she visits the field every day
Seems her innocence died
Between rows of the lies
She was told as a matter of course
With mere words she was fooled
With affections like tools
Raped her future without any force
There’s a brother who lives
Off the money we give
To the homeless souls walking the streets
He once dwelled in a book
That his father mistook
As a family that seemed so complete
He was like you and I
Chasing dreams in the sky
Thinking this is as good as it gets
But the time dies so fast
When we cling to the past
Leaving graves for the loves we forget
There’s a mother who pleads
As she’s down on her knees
Planting seeds that will never replace
All the time that slips by
In the wink of an eye
Like the rows of regrets on her face
TM DiSarro
©2023 TM DiSarro/MindScapes Publishing
#writings
BOOKS AVAILABLE:
THE BUSHMAN
EVERY WICKED BIRD
TM DiSarro 