The Oddball In The Window
The boy sat at the window
Looking out at the other boys
Laughing and playing their games
Enjoying their childhood days
The boy hopes that they will cherish
Those blissful moments of youth
That have been stolen from him
Moments gone forever from his childhood days
He’s not crippled in body or mind
He’s not allowed outside to play
Those boys point and stare at the boy
They call the oddball in the window
His parents have imprisoned him
To wrap him up in cotton love
He is just to much a gift from god
He is their only precious child
The parents say it’s for his own good
He’s such a delicate child
He just sits at the window
Jealous of the children running free
He will never laugh with other children
He will never join in their games
He never smiles in photographs
He’s not enjoying his childhood days
He’s grown up now; still sitting at the window
His parents can’t get him to venture outside
Everyone passing takes time to point and stare
At the man they call
The oddball in the window
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
Added by Poetry Lover
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