April's Valley

After dinner, April got,
from the corner of the cot,
her plush pound puppy toy
She took it to her room,
and skipped down the hall in joy
she locked the door and pulled out more
toys than you could count.
Around her was the many sets
of legoes, games, her etch a sketch.

Each day they all had tea,
to them a brief carouse.
She carried all the human dolls,
to the backyard of her house.
She swung with her dog puppet,
she'd found outside of town.
left in a trailer trapped
the puppy went to April's home,
her mother had relapsed.
The seasons went by, as they do,
their seeds fell to the ground,
only to bloom again though gone,
and she looked into her lap,
the origami sparrow flown.
was in the ground and gone,
and she looked into her lap,
the origami sparrow flown.

In its absence was a mirror,
the mirror showed her all;
then within her memory,
she crawled freezing checkered hall
amongst the puppies all encaged,
just like that puppy show,
she'd be their Moses, set them free,
Take them to the promised land,
through the skylight's magic gate,
she hoped to soon pass through,
again that eyes so perfect blue,
she did not know his name--
he was once a lost friend walking,
drinking went the dirty drain.

There in the world is large enough,
a place to keep us all,
without poverty and selfishness,
mankind would never fall;
just like a brand new car-
all the same basic parts,
from the hand of the same maker,
who forged it in the dark,
some white, some tan, some dark,
mixing colors creates art.

For all her life she looked to find,
the truth about the other side,
the never ending valley-
that was the story told.
Where all the children meet their parents,
the chariots of gold;
the sun a shade of red o'er head
to see their face, the young, the old-
and in the night when time for bed,
they listened to the violins instead.
The dust between the beams passed by,
in free and happy circles in the light-
that was the magic gate,
the never ending beauty of the valley of the free.

When she was six she did visit,
a pound of puppies lost,
no one to love them, no one to care,
instead they lay in cages bare
barking for their scraps of food
trapped inside a box,
and sometimes April felt that way,
like the dogs that didn't wag their tails
they knew that no one cared
and the shelter kept them there
in one shoebox cell
shaking in desperate misery, hoping,
someone might come through the door,
and think you're good enough,
to all the animals on Earth,
to be treated fair and just.
It has to be something to hold,
and God is not enough.