While waiting outside the office of the lower division director at my son's school yesterday, I wrote the following:
Little voices screaming powerfully down the hall
On tiptoe they march to and fro
On steps of concrete, in sand and grass.
Children oh children
With joy and mirth they cry for help
Quizzical looks as teacher talks
Tears of joy at friendships lost
Renewed each morning at roll call.
To be young is not to be free
When those around are on constant watch.
Listen now to the little voices
For in them lie the future.
-- Karen Davis 2013
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