<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=392266" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Friday's Child</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Friday evening comes again, the fading light<br>As summer falls towards the winter's arms<br>The birds adjust their song to Sabbath tones<br>From branches clothed in leaves just clinging on<br>To vestiges of life. You sit alone<br>With thoughts so nimble in their questioning<br>And dreams and longing looming large<br>But not yet smooth, the guards<br>Of all you wish your heart to realize.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An irritating child, again, is tugging on your jeans<br>The bitter taste on tongue offsets the comfort of your chair, <br>An orphaned thought that plays on every page<br>Across the screens and headlines of the day<br>The voices that call harshly to the air: <br>'What makes such evil beings out of men<br>Born into innocence and held in arms, but yet<br>Learning by day and in their secret nights<br>How hatred is perfected, intricate<br>As if all others of their kind were not the same<br>In bone and very DNA? ' Your child of thought<br>Fades with the light, as the weekend<br>And invitations to the family hearth approach, <br>Your ears caressed by birdsong, you fall soft<br>Into the arms of autumn and repose, <br>Believing tenderness can heal the heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Frank+Bana">Frank Bana</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=392266" data-title="Friday's Child de Frank Bana" data-description="Friday evening comes again, the fading light As summer falls towards the winter's arms The birds adjust their song to Sabbath tones From branches clothed in leaves just clinging on To vestiges of life. You sit alone With thoughts so nimble in thei..."></div> </div> </div>

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