Visions
Sittin' on the doorstep
watchin' the passers-by,
the little child wonders
what she will be
before it's time to die?
In her head
she has a vision
of being a queen
or a movie star,
anything, but mean.
She's heard people say
that you can grow up
to be president someday.
But on that doorstep
no one even waves her way.
And still the visions
keep a-comin'.
She could be a dancer
or a singer
and she starts in hummin'.
Someone's heard her hummin'.
She sees 'em commin'.
'Get yourself
off of that doorstep.'
She takes the broom
and starts in sweepin'.
Deep inside
starts the weepin'
Gotta keep that
doorstep clean.
If she doesn't
how's she gonna
keep her visions?
She'll just end up
being mean.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Added by Poetry Lover
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