One Day

• Ezri Mcarthur, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2018

There were puddles on the ground, but they were inside
Her tears like waterfalls, for her dear father, had died
When he had left that morning, everything was fine
Later came a letter, that her poor mother was to sign
‘Why did this happen?’, she cried into her pillow
For now, she knew, her poor mother was a widow