Boys and Girls The window Outside of which is crying, Little girls, Hair of swirls, Tormented by little boys. Violence, Not silence, The playful game of dying, Girls will run, T’is not fun, Fleeing to escape the toys, In shadows, Hearing myself, I’m sighing
Crashing glass And silence is now shattered, Near the wall A baseball Rest after its destruction. Now the boys Lost of toys, In fear have quickly scattered; She remains To take the blame, The fear holds her in traction. Through the glass I see her dressed in tatters. The window, Dark insides casts reflections, Of grown girls, And grown boys, Passing by now hand in hand. Without curls, Without toys, Ladies in men’s protection, Perhaps proud, Maybe loud, Then cuddling when they can. In shadows A lonely tattered girl stands. Gloom 99 Back to Poetry of 1999
