The simple-minded girl with the baby doll
Was swinging back and forth while the younger children
Were running round the playground making plans
And hatching them, and the simple-minded girl
Serenely sang, and rocked her baby doll
As I have seen a new-made mother do
More cunning and more reasons in her heart.
And presently a boy of six runs up,
The white boy that the black boys had tagged out
The faster ones still playing a game of ball,
And lays a hand on the chain of the neighboring swing
And looks into her flatter face, her eyes
Not troubled, keen, or sharp for making plans,
But good enough to look into his eyes.
She slips down from her swing, as he climbs up
In his, and gently holds the baby doll
In place, solicitous and awkwardly
As back and forth the baby doll and boy
Alike receive her happy peaceful stare
Or so she thinks like a young and happy mother.
I wonder: will she ever be a mother?