My Children are racing through the city.
Scattered and aimless, like the very young, chasing a kitty.
Some are tired and gritty.
So many are lost and confused, they are just little bitty.
A few are humming a ditty.
While others are heady and giddy.
Silence and you will heal the violence.
Some loved ones are in the dark, soaking up the moon.
So special, I have set them in park, just until noon.
My pearls, hark, hark, no longer are you bait for the goon.
Or should I say, more like a buffoon.
My gloriously beautiful butterflies, listen to the sweet lark.
Oh, what a boon! Whistling in the wind, his wonderful tune.
Very soon, very soon, as you fly from your soft cocoon.
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