The Hiding Child Poem by Franklin Spriggs

Do we ever consider,
The reason that we cry,
Those little drops of water,
That flow from the eyes.

It is a language of it's own,
When we are hurt does it arise.
It is a voice from deep within,
Of the child that always hides.

We say 'you hurt my feelings',
Do we stop to think of why,
It is the child in all of us,
The one who begins to cry.

The spirit is such a tender child,
Delicate and always true,
But a sigh of relief is given,
When the hurt is finally through.

I know he is feeling better,
No more tears upon the face,
So once again he returns,
Into his hiding place.

Author
Franklin Spriggs
August 7,2008