Precious child trimmed for show,
Dainty rings and a yellow bow,
Tears of joy no longer nurse,
Seedless flowers of pleasure’s hearse.
Grief-struck countenance
Trembling from fits of awareness,
Songs of woe filling hollows
Echoed by hope,
Empty your heart,
And tear it apart.
Ripened lips,
Haunted by careless dancing,
And bribed laughing sing no more
Of delighted innocence,
Nor writhe in fruitless passion.
Softly saddened they frame
Their unanswerable why.
Betrayed eyes,
Cry out in disbelief of truths
Possessed of hate
And born of greed,
Yellow truths,
Playfully dotted so long ago,
Casting memories of sparkled eyes
Duped by thoughtless lust.
Cry flaming sorrow,
Cry for love,
Cry for joy,
Cry for a meaning to
The unrelenting pain of waking
That strains your every pore.
James K. Richardson