Based on a Ruth Forman poem
Poetry needs a hand
When it trips and stumbles
Up the set of stairs,
Papers floating down, down, down
While people stroll by,
Too absorbed with
Their iPods and cell phones
Too notice what is
Really around them.
Poetry needs a hand
When it sits at a
Table with piles of things;
Lists, books, binders and papers,
Swallowing everything,
And if only there were
A hand to bring some relief.
Poetry, lend a hand
To the mother who raises
Three kids and works two jobs.
To the young man,
Struggling to see
Why things are the way they are.
To help the world know
That we are a society
Of change. Change that
Brings forth the good
No matter what.
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