I think about Mary, <br />The pieces of her story <br />As I know it: <br />Her childhood streets, <br />The neighborhood cherry tree <br />She used to climb, <br />It should have been for fun, <br />Not for badly needed nourishment, <br />But she survived, <br />By strength of will, <br />A poisoned family life <br />Of shuffled homes <br />And ever-changing schools <br />With her homework assignments missed. <br /> <br />But Mary, did you allow yourself to cry? <br />Was that too much a luxury for a small girl? <br />Too much a luxury when your possessions <br />Were placed on the curbs of lonely streets <br />Where passersby didn’t know the children <br />Those possessions belonged to, <br />Their tattered clothes and tattered lives? <br />But Mary, you kept yourself alive <br />And somehow filled your heart with love <br />And created a better day <br />For everyone you touched: <br />Your husband and children, <br />Your baby brother <br />Who still has an injured heart, <br />And people like myself <br />Who gaze into your soul <br />Through the words you write.<br /><br />Uriah Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-think-about-my-neighbor-mary/
