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A Child's Whine
As I sit here and write
this poem of mine,
I believe I hear a small child's whine,
on this dark and stormy night.
I look through the window on my right,
to see the child's family begin to dine.
I wish the family's actions were benign,
but they refuse to feed the yelling child with all their might.
I stand up and begin to roam;
thinking, knowing that child's time is running out.
If I don't do something my heart may turn to loam,
because I can't stand their treating him like a gnome.
So I pick up the phone without a doubt,
and find the child a new and better home.
