I sat and watched, this young child play;
by Ruth warren
she stayed in the corner, on that dark day.
I watched her laugh, I watched her pretend;
'She's really happy, yet where were her friends'?
She seemed wrapped up, in her own small world;
this precious child, this withdrawn little girl.
She appeared to be, quite content;
to be all alone, where ever she went.
Then the sunset began, and I noticed a tear;
her face held an expression, of terror and fear.
She put away her toys, laid her dollys' to rest;
she was meticulous and careful, during her quest.
I heard a voice, calling out to her;
'It's bedtime, come along, don't doddle my dear'.
At that moment, I can't explain why;
tears welled up, in her troubled eyes.
She quietly did, what she was told;
all she had in her bed, was a blanket to hold.
She turned over, facing the wall;
and I saw her teardrops, silently fall.
I knew at that moment, that something was wrong;
yet I had to turn away, I wasn't that strong.
How could I understand, her pain and grief;
Because this little girl, grew up to