Stolen Childhood

Poem By Charlie Chaffin

S o help me find the metaphor of childhood
With which I can help you understand
What was stolen.

T ake a snowflake, matchless in all the world,
Drifting from the sky.
Unique.

O rdinary flowers, full of color and warm spring weather,
Delicate harbingers of life and hope.
Nurturing.

L ook no further than a mother bear with her cubs
To find what protection means.
Safety.

E very life bursts forth with possibility,
Like a flock of birds rising as one.
Exploring.

N ew eyes that see the world in new ways,
Unbound by yesterday.
Creativity.

There is no gift more precious than childhood,
Distant metaphors to feel its loss.
Anguish.

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A Silent Spring

A silent spring,
Birds all gone.
Only the wind
Whispers at dawn.

The Last Solider

I fight a hundred battles,
But none of them you see.
The battles that I fight
Are fought for you and me.

Disintegration

He drew the shade down in front of the sun,
A thick, medieval fortress wall of stone cast.
There in the dim and safe of the dark was also a dog,
A part of him dragged from the past.

Ode To A Mixed Up Therapist

Things taken against our will;
Things taken without our knowledge;
Things taken twice;
Things gone that leave a hole.