In dark of morning, quiet' pause within
Time ‘tween days gone and day to be
When I allow the whims that prick my skin
To freely billow breaths of poetry
And etch my words upon a wastrel wind.
The arrogance of a learned path, submits
To a greater wisdom, a worldly dividend
Suspends belief, and justice has no fit.
When we consume the days of youngest ones
An innocence, a time when life's so fertile
For wealth's unholy need a sorrowed harvest done
Little boys into things, and things of little girls.
We harm the yield when we rob the seed
Of time in golden sun, unshadowed by greed
Girl's story is a short story of mine- recent thing- to mark the international Day of Children, November 20, 2013. The theme I have chosen is Child labor. I set my story in 1916 but as I wrote it, it is still a fact of life today in Asia, and tomorrow in the US because the Right Wing will destroy the middle class ( repeal the minimum wage, right to work laws) and reduce it to the point of putting our children into hard labor ---if we let them. SO DON'T LET THEM. They do it wherever they can, make $200 sneakers and pay workers $2 a day.
Girl's story is a short story of mine- recent thing- to mark the international Day of Children, November 20, 2013. The theme I have chosen is Child labor. I set my story in 1916 but as I wrote it, it is still a fact of life today in Asia, and tomorrow in the US because the Right Wing will destroy the middle class ( repeal the minimum wage, right to work laws) and reduce it to the point of putting our children into hard labor ---if we let them. SO DON'T LET THEM. They do it wherever they can, make $200 sneakers and pay workers $2 a day.
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