Children’s Books

Children, Children, come and play,

Together on a summer’s day.

And by sweet right, you’ll have your way,

Until you all fight while remaining gay.

And one poor child amidst the fray,

Looks out upon the wild children of day,

And sees only night and cool dismay.

This child alone sets apart on this;

No happy home; the world amiss. 

And in the difference finds solace, 

In a tender, gentle page.

But, the others, They do laugh in scorn, 

At the child so forlorn.

For in this world behind a book, 

She has found her happy nook. 

But, other children snatch away, 

Demanding that she come and play.

Caring not what is beneath a cover;

Finding only defection to smother.

If only the child had another, 

To hide her from the world of others.

Alas, She faces it alone, 

Until the children are called home.

Children, Children, come and play, 

Together on another day.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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