Who would call them losers
Because they couldn't stand;
We lifted when they moved about
On worn out knees and hands.
We didn't call them fools
Because they didn't talk;
We oohed and ahhed with all their sounds
When they stood free and walked.
We heard a blend of letters spew
Like spilled out alphaghetti;
Raving with their oral prowess,
Like roars on the Serengeti.
As years passed by, and they were graded
(And most certainly not by us) ;
They might return with D's and E's,
But we never judged or fussed.
This is how we treated them,
Our children that we raised;
I pray that our changing world
Will forgive, forget and praise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem