I never claimed to be a poet, but I’ve been working on my family tree and I ran across a folder of my early attempts at it. I wrote this some time in the late 80s. Kinda makes you think–why is this still so relevant? This is AS IS. I did not edit it at all.
There’s so much strife, and so much grief,
when will our race find true relief?
Starving children are left for dead,
while we sleep warmly in our beds.
You see the fear that’s in their eyes,
and still ignore their desperate cries.
If every man would take the time,
to give the hungry one thin dime.
I know the world could find a way,
to feed a child for one more day.