Gutter Children

Gutter Children

As the grey heaven shed its tears,

According to the weather’s turning gears, Children play by a tall closed gate.

Happy but in a dreadful state.

Playing in the gutter.

Slipping and sliding like warm butter,

An arctic wolf?-tougher,

And a great deal muddier.

Adults stare down with disdain,

Secretly with pain,

Wishing they were little again;

Splashing in the rain,

Wallowing in the gutter.

The adults see through the fog,

A wet cold dirty bog.

But the kids behold a grey sea,

That engulfs both you and me,

And the pleasure, in the gutter.