Who will cry for the little boy?
Deep Thoughts
Who will cry
For the little boy
That cries silently inside of me,
That has so much emptiness
Inside of him?
Who will cry
For the little boy
That was dumped
To die in the cold,
Whose soul was saved from sores,
That has no olds to call his?
Who will cry
For the little boy
Who fears to sleep at night,
That has no shelter over
His thoughtful head,
That has no home to call
His lovely abode,
That lives from hand to his mouth,
Who walk to hawk all day,
Whose dim morning
Kills his bright noon?
No one will cry
For the little boy
That laughs aloud outside of me,
That has so many fulfilments in him,
That was saved to live in warmth.
Whose sores was saved to soul
And has his olds to call on.
Whose sleep fears at night.
That has shelter over
His thoughtful head.
That has a lovely abode
To call his home.
Who now eats to his heart.
And his wealth now
Works for him all day.
His sunny morning
Brightens his lighted noon.
The little boy will cry
Alone even as a man.
To cry now,
Not to cry no more
This poem was first published in Deep Thoughts and is available on Amazon
