Actions Experience fall feelings Life Lost Poem thoughts True

There Sits the Child.

A child over there,

 sits in a corner,

with nothing to share,

looks like a loner,

none to care,

expresses a sordid  groan,

nervous  like a hare,

crys like a mourner,

confined to a bare,

thinking aloud  no sooner,

falls  down in scare,

collapsing every other in a flare,

well, that is  the end of the fair.