Days are longer but growing darker,
a three month span without distractions
where a poor boy loses his sanctuary.

People who cared and fed him everyday
offset the despair of going back home,
how crucial that lunch period became.

‘Cause daddy’s gone off to who knows where
while mommy’s drinking way too much to care,
someone has to brush little sister’s hair.

He’s just trying to hold on to himself
when the world stops paying daily attention
and he’s forced to abandon the child inside.

So he turns to hate because you can’t follow him,
can’t teach him survival between the terms
and hate so often comes from love.

What’s going to happen in the next few years,
will he hold it together to graduate?
Even then what does tomorrow bring?

‘Cause no one cares about a four minute mile
when all that talent’s chained to kitchen tile
cooking just to see his sister smile

meanwhile I sit here and claim summer hate
for the misfortunes I think are stacking up on me.
These are children who don’t have the choice to play.

Then I see the pain you, my friend, separately share.
Seems there should be something more we could do
for those whose summer break is made into prison.

All you can do is hope that you taught them
enough humanity to help them hold
just a fraction of their leaking innocence.

God, I apologize for every complaint I’ve thrown.
May each and every I’ll word I’ve spoken
get turned into a good day for one of these kids,

may this buy them a summer somewhat free
of these daily travesties,
for it’s the strong born weak who truly need the grace.