Children Without Us Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Growing where we fall
Beside the glacier, beside the waterfall:
Beautiful foundlings outside of
The ballrooms-
Near the summit, where I guess we have to look
Up at the stars, disgusted:
Above tree-line- our dumb luck:
We can never grow here-
The witches and angels will browbeat us they
Come around in their games:
We will turn to midgets, stunted beside the
Glacial lakes the size of minnows:
And the girls we want to love we will not
Even see- and they will have
Children without us:
And you will never think of me.