I sit here out of site, hiding and watching
As the children frolic in the park
I think how lucky these youngsters are
Who run carefree until it gets dark
No hatred, no animosity in their hearts
So innocent and so fragile they can be
Nothing like the people we grow up and become
I discover this as I am hidden under the tree
Playing and dirtying all their clothes
These children, so delicate, so very rare
Girls in their frocks, boys wearing shorts
They look so peaceful, can't help but stare
Precious, so valuable, these little people are
I'm grateful, I'm obliged because they are this way
These angels, theses tiny sweet darlings
I gaze at, and appreciate as they play and play…
