Not a Nuisance

They ran with laughter on the grass, A ball, a dream, a moment passed. But silence came—not from the sky— From voices sharp, a grown man’s cry.

“This is not where you belong!” As if their joy was somehow wrong. No gentle tone, no guiding hand, Just rules barked out like harsh command.

They looked at me with puzzled eyes, As if the sun fell from the skies. And all I asked was simple grace— To speak with kindness, face to face.

Another day, another scene, A guard who turned their green to mean. “Shoo away,” he scowled and frowned, As if young hearts would harm the ground.

But where were we when we were small? Did we not chase a ball, a call? Did we not dream in reckless ways, And crave the open sky to play?

They are not mess. They are not wild. They are simply each a child. Curious, messy, full of light— Not wrong, not rude, just burning bright.

And yes, the world must have its rules, But must we teach them dressed as fools? With scorn, with fear, with lifted chin— What lesson sinks when love’s not in?

We were hushed when we asked “why,” Told to shrink, suppress, comply. And now we fear to raise our voice, To claim our truth, to make a choice.

So let them speak, and let them play. Don’t cast their wonderings away. They need not judgment, shame, or cage— But understanding for their age.

It takes a village, so be one— A softer voice, a kinder sun. Stand not as walls that block the way, But bridges children cross each day.