Mary Ann Pratt Mary Ann Pratt was known as a Brat And the neediest kid I had met Her parents kept buying but she kept on crying Her clothes would have put me in debt Her parents gave in to each little whim They bid for her love with each check They bought all the toys that most kids enjoy But Mary was always a wreck “What is it?” I asked little Mary one day When she looked kind of sad at the park She had a new dress and her hair up in braids But her eyes were just missing that spark Her face wore a frown, her shoulders drooped down And she looked like she wanted to cry But she stuck out her lip put a hand on her hip And defiantly asked me, “Why?” “Why What?” I stepped back as if under attack From this child that put me in shock And I tried to explain I could help with the pain If she was just willing to talk She let out her fears with each of her tears As she sobbed of how lonely she felt And I tried to stay strong as I listened along But inside I could feel my heart melt There is nothing on Earth that our kids need from birth More than time and the knowledge we care No gifts can replace or stand in the place Of a parent that just isn’t there From Mary I heard how completely absurd I must sound to my own kids at times When I push them away for things that don’t stay Leaving them with just nickels and dimes A kiss and a hug, a roll on the rug Some stories and cuddles each night Is such a small cost compared to what’s lost Kiss it better and things are alright These years never last.  We blink and they’re past Soon the magic of youth disappears And the heroes we were soon evolve to a blur When our kisses no longer fix tears From that day I’ve tried to look deep inside And make changes to just be there more The duties of Father are never a bother Less money does not make one poor I wish I could say I helped Mary that day Besides listening and drying her tears And her parents got wise and escaped from the lies As the world gobbled up all the years But that wasn’t so and as far as I know Mary grew up and moved away Though she kept getting stuff it was never enough Like the child I spoke with that day As for me that short talk changed the way that I walk And the way I judge children at that When my children act out, when they cry and they shout I remember young Mary Ann Pratt                                                       Thal Dixon                                                               2005
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