A Little Boy and a Cot. By CpSingleton © 2014
There’s a cot where a little boy sings,
To the sound of a brass bell that rings.
Yet, all night and all day,
No smiles peer his way,
Their arms are devoid of nice things.
There’s a cot where a little boy sings.
His voice as light as the angels wings.
One day he’ll see sun,
Play out and have fun,
Witness what love in its purest brings.
There’s a cot where a little boy sighs.
Too scarred to bother with cries.
He knows that he’s all alone,
Just as the flesh on his bones.
Faint hope is his only gold prize.
There’s a cot now empty and cold.
The little boy’s gone and grown old.
It’s been a struggle each year
To walk a path true and clear,
He broke the chain: strode on mighty and bold.