In The Night She Hears You
She sleeps, or pretends too,
yet listening to the words out of the night.
She hears them, discern some, others without a clue,
shape her thoughts be they good, or right.
She lies there, hearing the words that were saved,
saved until she was in bed, so they could be said.
Words that hint at problems, now these are engraved,
and she perceives them, not understanding the inner dread.
Sounds of pain, and anger too, and silences that cut deep,
she lays there and weeps, unsure what to do, or say.
A child in confusion, left behind and so afraid to weep,
loving those who argue, wanting only good this day.
Parents never understand that children hear it all,
and hurt along with you in ways that they can not define.
Take the time to hear it from the viewpoint of a child small,
perhaps you’ll learn a lesson, there’s more here then just thine!
Good morning, Soaring Feather. Love the poem and the graphic is adorable.
*Hugs*
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