To An Unknown Child

Occasion: I wrote this in 1984 but I don't know what prompted it. The previous year, my last in High School, I took a class called Protest Literature. My semester report was on Abortion.

They never believed,
That he’d be conceived,
That little baby boy,
They’d tried it at last,
Put it all in their past,
They thought it was a toy.

He’s got little hands,
And a brain that commands,
His little heart to beat,
He is perfect each way,
Getting stronger each day,
From his head to his tiny feet.

He perished one day,
In a pre-conceived way,
On an early, misty morn.
Once made in a flash,
Now he lives in the trash,
He was never even born.

Only memories remain,
Of a girl gone insane,
From a child that will never trod,
In the grass or the trees,
Never sit on her knees,But he sits on the lap of GOD.