Little One

By
Each tear showed a sign of weakness,
Each sigh a release of hope.
The fright of her hand never out of reach,
For faith is at the end of its rope.
The stonework of her love never laid,
No smile ever shown,
Feelings swell of little importance,
Wonders why the hatred as only grown.
Each day a remembrance of who's on the floor,
Each day a showing of the one towering tall,
Although not in height for she is still young,
The little ones days have just begun.





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