In A Small Village Square
In a small village squarelived some small people there
who were normal in stature
but were very slow to mature.
They were bothered silly;
worried about "Old Billy"
who lived in the town's park,
in a box he had covered in bark.
The small people surmised
that he tainted their eyes,
so they closed them when passing
the one who starved while fasting.
Not one did approach him.
ne're did he encroach them.
he simply stayed to himself,
not bothering anyone else.
But the Bigotry grew
and the small people knew
that the box house in the park
must certainly burn at dark.
So with their small matches,
they gathered in batches,
to stamp out the hideous blight,
in a riot of flame and fright.
Flames roared as evil cried,
"Yes, murder is alive!"
Death came to "Old Bill" that night.
He smothered without a fight.
Now be careful of that park.
Small people stand in the dark
whispering words of a town
that brought a small village down.
In a small village square
there are no people there.
Scattered like ash in the wind
the village burnt to its own end.
Kathy Lockhart
6/07/06
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 878 times
Written on 2006-06-07 at 05:37
Tags Bigotry Hatred Suffering
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