Rosie Poem by John I Nash

Rosie, Rosie, you are never on time, you are late for school do you not hear the chime.

Rosie, Rosie your clothes are all crumpled and dirty it is eight thirty and you are late once again.

Tears you shed as we sing our song as loud as we can, taught to us by the hardhearted and unfeeling.

Hurt by our sound no peace can be found, no sanctuary for this little one, only cold stares.

Innocent pitted against the innocent by those entrusted to protect. Wearing the symbol of God doing the devils work, doing wrong with a song against an angel child.

Rosie, Rosie, head down, One sock below the other, tangled hair, red cheeks, in quite dignity she stands, head down, tears hitting the floor, a quick glance at the door, if only to escape.

Newly motherless this child, in ignorance they sing: Rosie, Rosie, you stopped to pick a posy, you are so dopey, she wept, unwilling to accept more pain she ran for the door and fell on the floor, and crawled to a corner.

Having done their best to knock this little bird from the nest they stopped their attack, patted each other on the back. Those entrusted to protect, " wait until she comes back tomorrow we will sing louder yet." Never did she return, apologies they made that God will never accept, for this little angel child will never fly again.

Rosie, Rosie, this song has disfigured my soul, to be told I witnessed it all, young child that I was I knew it was wrong what happened to them all.