Kathryn Byrne - Children

The glisting, white cold on a Christmas day.
Children will come to play.
If you do not allowed your child out then you are without a doubt
a very wicked person.
A child comes to play on your lawn and
If you make them go away you don't deserve
a lawn,
A child goes up to you and say 'I am cold, I am cold'
and you turn them away then you are a very wicked person.

Kathryn Byrne

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/children-42/