Abandoned by the side of the congested street
It was well used, faded red streamers ensnared in rusted handlebars
whipping in the wind as if trying to capture freedom
This child’s toy, a delicate identity,
defined innocence and demanded notice
discarded among overgrown shrubs and broken windows
Careful observation of the world to which I belong
tells stories I sometimes wish to ignore – still, I resist the urge
to hide from sorrow and rebel against injustice one page at a time
Oh, open heart, if you are my sin,
grant me the power to find my voice so I may
make a difference, one child at a time
photo: Flickr
prompts: AshVerse, VerseReversal
Writing and Reflections 
Well written. I admire her dedication to help each child, despite the sorrow in some children’s lives, and of them. Perhaps, the tricycle could be a happy memory too??
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I think so. I loved that age with my kids. I drove past an abandoned tricycle on my way to work (school) this morning, although it was not a dark scene like in the poem. Children’s toys can represent so many things and it breaks my heart to think of any child suffering.
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Yes. I agree.
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