The Children
She lay them softly on their beds
Each tiny body, curly head
The children, five, wet from the tub
The youngest not more than a nub
Her cries for help were never heard
Her plan that day to us, absurd
Undeserving of this precious brood
She lay them there, dark was her mood
So tender were her touches then
No indication of her sin
Quiet and soft-spoken, she
Who could have known, who could have seen?
So one-by-one she placed them there
Their lovely faces, dampened hair
Angelic-looking on her bed
A Mom was left - no tears were shed
The house now empty, strewn with toys
One less girl, four less boys
The tragedy was hard to hear
A Mom could drown her children dear
Some fought against it, some did not
When Mommy killed her entire lot
Was it the world she saved them from
Each tiny body, curly head
The children, five, wet from the tub
The youngest not more than a nub
Her cries for help were never heard
Her plan that day to us, absurd
Undeserving of this precious brood
She lay them there, dark was her mood
So tender were her touches then
No indication of her sin
Quiet and soft-spoken, she
Who could have known, who could have seen?
So one-by-one she placed them there
Their lovely faces, dampened hair
Angelic-looking on her bed
A Mom was left - no tears were shed
The house now empty, strewn with toys
One less girl, four less boys
The tragedy was hard to hear
A Mom could drown her children dear
Some fought against it, some did not
When Mommy killed her entire lot
Was it the world she saved them from
Or should the world have saved their Mom?
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.