The kitchen they've made her home.
Her plaintive tears that fall today
Will hardly keep them at bay.
She stands at the edge of a cliff.
All she can descry is a big future
But she can only catch just a whiff
Of the golden days and the big picture.
She sings the song of a lost child,
For she likens this world to none
But simply a cruel and unjust wild
That saves the best only for the son.
She knocks earnestly on knowledge's door
For walking through it she can stand tall
And savor the best of the years coming
But she pounds and hears nothing happen.
She walks a treacherous road this time.
They would wipe away her dreams
And cut her very worth to a dime
Will you sleep while she weeps?
« return.