14 July 2012
That happened years before I was born. My siblings were under 7 years old. Some people observed our family at play.
You see, they had a riddle to solve To raise survivors of the Holocaust. For all the games and toys they had bought, The children couldn't learn how to play.
So they sat and took notes as they watched My siblings play on a cardboard box, Transformed into wagons, planes and yachts, The magical things that took them away.
With toys on a shelf, play doesn't start. It has to begin with a joyful heart. A soul that's been crushed can not take part In enjoying a beautiful day.
The camps are closed, the ovens are cold, But still in the cities of our own Abusive, hateful, dangerous homes Are crippling children everyday.
If you're a parent feeling tension, Remember that the ads don't mention You're not too poor to pay attention And show the love your child craves.
You know your love has opened locks When they enjoy a cardboard box.
Cardboard Box • Opuss № I