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Annette Hansen

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Member Since: Feb, 2005

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Pacific Crimson - Forget Me Not
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Poetry memorializing the events and people of the Pacific War...  
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Take My Hand
by Annette Hansen
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Rated "G" by the Author.
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For anyone who has ever needed a friend.

'Take My Hand'

He stands there alone and on display

Doesnít know where to look or what he should say

He feels their stares but cannot meet their eyes

Will they think heís strange if he runs or cries? 

It isnít his fault that he ended up here

He misses old friends and the things he held dear

But they needed money and they travelled far

Leaving their home in their beaten up car 

The teacher sees that his fingers arenít clean
She sees that heís small and unusually lean

And yet she still puts him up here on display
What kind of cruel game does this person play? 

The girl in the back with the long, blonde hair

She feels so badly for the boy standing there
Exposed and ashamed and not part of the crowd
She wishes that she could just cry out loud 

Come take my hand and sit by me
Thereís a space right there, a seat thatís free
I think it was waiting for someone like you

Who needed a friend to help you through

He didnít look up but I felt his heart leap

Could he be a friend, a friend I might keep?

Others turn and stare in disgust
Thatís not a boy they ever would trust! 

Weíre out in the playground and all of the girls

Keep to themselves like weíre not of this world

But I donít care because my mum and my dad

Taught me that no one should ever be sad

I can take his dirty hand in my own

Why should any child ever feel alone?
Just because they donít look the same

Who am I to judge or cast blame?


How cruel can even the eight year-olds be
To say that this boy is not good for me?
Heís human, heís sad and he needs a friend
And we should all wish that his loneliness end 

But what of these girls who sit together and stare

What gives them the right to judge what we wear?

I suppose itís the parents who taught them to scorn
To sneer at his shoes, so grubby and worn 

Perhaps they were raised with pretty new dresses

And shoes that were new and clean, shiny tresses

But I fear that those girls may end up alone
With their eyes that donít see and their hearts of stone 

But I know I am willing to take this boyís hand

And lead him on through this new and strange land

And to make him feel lucky that he has a friend
Whose right to be there, I will defend 

When the weak are not able to stand up and fight
The strong must step forward and end their plight

You canít blame the children for what do they know?
It comes from the homes, where all children grow

It can be brutal in this schoolyard of life
Their critical words can stab like a knife
But if parents donít teach them to care and to give

What kind of an empty life will they live?

© Annette Hansen 2005 

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Reviewed by Portia Burton 11/1/2014
Very touching!
Reviewed by John Flanagan 4/27/2008
I feel the passion and intensity in this. Well done!
Reviewed by Shay White 2/21/2008
This one brought back some bittersweet childhood memories of my own. This is just more proof that history repeats itself over and over throughout the generations until someone is brave enough to rewrite it. Thanks for sharing.

Shay White
Reviewed by Dave Harm 3/6/2005
Children can be the cruelest creatures on the earth. But there always seems to be at least one, who is wise before their years, who go beyond labels and exterior visions, to see a soul, waiting to be nutured and brought to life... great write...
Reviewed by Sandie Angel 3/6/2005
This brought back so much memories when my girl was in elementary school. There was one proud mother in there who did not want anyone to help her family. She often sent her son in ragged clothings to school, and she thought the child should be proud to wear it like her too. What she didn't know about were the bullies in the school yard. Some children are very cruel. As a result of the teasing and tauntings the child had gained very low self-esteem.

By Christmas time, we (the other mothers got our money together) just left our gift of a new jacket and some new clothes; and a turkey in front of her door; and we knocked on her door and ran away. She had not the means of knowing who the giver was, so she had kept that and gave her boy the new jacket and clothes to wear. We (the rest of the mothers) were happy that she had kept the gift for the sake of the child.

Some mothers are too proud to receive help; but they had forgotten the basic necessities that their children should have. No children should be denied of that.

A great thought-provoking write, Annette!

Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)

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