The soft skin dries,
amongst new Mum sighs,
and Dad is keen to play his role
and so the child grows their soul.
The sibilant tweeting of birds in the garden
flow around them, sleeping without fear of men,
til sound becomes words and their mind can think,
and so they learn that their new future is on the blink.
With others they grow and seek the difference they need,
and seeds sown in their lives by adults who’ve yielded to greed.
No thought was given to a small babies crying while around the table,
lying and hiding the truth strangers wrangle over words and badly disable
the chance to build a world for the newly born but construct it strongly around
coal and oil for the corporate companies who have sold their lives to be bank bound,
taking the joys of trudging lanes, beach trips because to them it’ll be ever dangerously evil.
and when that child dies in wars over water, or hostile weather that will torment and kill, will
those who hide in safe homes with guns
and food give a toss for them or only their sons.