Withered Fruits
The swingsets are empty, silent, and still,
As if remembering the children that were killed.
The sandbox is quiet, flat, and remote,
Without castles, toys, or handdug moats.
The slide is without little girls,
Laughing, playing, and doing twirls.
The field is without little boys,
Catching frogs, pollywogs, and making noise.
This is the withered fruits abortion brings,
Now you see it does terrible things.
This is why we must stand strong,
Before the children are all gone.
"I have often thought what a melancholy world this would be without children--what an inhuman world without the aged."
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
