Little
Neighbor
She
was such
a pretty child, as pretty as could be.
The
blondest hair and
bluest eyes, this little girl of three.
She lived
next door,
and I would often see her play outside,
Putting all
her dollies
in a wagon, for a ride.
I often
thought, how
beautiful she would be when she's grown.
She was
just the cutest
thing, as she played there all alone.
I only knew
her parents,
from a passing wave or 'Hi.'
They did
not want to
socialize, each time that I would try.
I
sometimes heard them
arguing, when I was in my yard.
I know the
problems
people have, can sometimes make life hard.
I thought
they were
just loners, because they kept to themselves.
They might
think I
am nosy, if I try to offer help.
They
never bother anyone,
the other neighbors say,
And the
little girl
can only go out back to play.
You only
see them come
and go, they never stay outside.
You wonder
when they
act like that, have they something to hide?
One day
I heard them
arguing, much louder than before.
As I looked
out, the
little girl was standing by her door.
Her little
face was
bruised, and tears were running down her cheek.
I wanted to
go over
there, but I was scared and meek.
Finally,
when the screaming
stopped and everything was calm,
I saw the
little girl
was being held close to her Mom.
Her Mother
rocked her
back and forth, and she was crying too.
Just
standing in the
back yard, there was nothing I could do.
There
was nothing I
could do, would be of any use.
This Mother
and this
little girl, were suffering abuse.
She had
better call
someone, and get this thing resolved,
But, it is
not my business,
and I cannot get involved.
As I
spoke with neighbors,
about what went on next door,
They all
agreed, that
is was sad, it's something we abhor.
It's
something we must
overlook, we cannot interfere.
But, now we
sing a
different tune, as we are gathered here.
The
neighborhood feels
guilty, for we looked the other way,
Are we all
responsible
for being here today?
We feel the
anger and
the shame, because we all stood by,
Knowing
now, we could
have helped, but didn't even try.
And, now
this little
three year old, so beautiful to me,
Surrounded
by her dollies,
just the way she loved to be,
Is in a
little casket,
with her body limp and frail.
Her Mom is
in intensive
care, her Dad is now in jail.
The
funeral home is
quiet, because we all realize,
The reason
you must
get involved, is right before our eyes.
Abuse, in
any form,
is something we must all resent.
And, fight
with every
tool we have, to save our innocent.
Author:
Unknown



