Fallen Child

On one dreary morn, in the month of August

A young boy came running, from down by the creek

He yelled and compelled, about his good friend,

whom had fallen of becoming weak,

Running my thoughts into a dead end,

I simply watched as the boy passed by,

Not helping at all,

Not hearing his call,

I'm sorry my child,

For I did not help,

Not offering my service

In your dire need,

I heard the next day, his young friend had left

Into the other side, he was set adrift

Oh, how daft of me,

Not to help the poor child

Oh, how daft of me,

To not help the needing.

I'm going away now,

Just thought I'd let you know.

I'm going to the child's resting place,

To remorse and say a little grace,

Oh, how very daft of me,

TO not help the needing child,

Oh, how very daft of I,

TO leave one suffering alone,

And all alone,