THE DAY DENNY DIED
I cried the day
That Denny Died.
Struck down by a rock,
By some mean youths.
I can picture him cowering,
A young child in fear,
A young mind trapped
In the body of a man.
Was he struck down
Because he was different?
He was not much threat.
The reason he was killed,
I will never know,
But I grieve for him,
And his family I know.
Why must the innocent -
The meek and the mild-
Suffer injustice,
Even at the hand of a child?
Bob Richards
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