Steel sheets cannot smile like little children
Nor can they dance around with blue shoes
Laces untied in a carefree manner...
To fall and to get up in a laughing chaos
Is a privilege that only red ribbons flaunt.
Meandering thoughts reflected in curious
Wide eyes. Questions followed by questions
Seeking answers evermore. Never more
Than less. A thought; A thoughtful recess.
If only concrete could contemplate with
The same honesty as the little heads
Wearing maroon monkey caps in winters.
In the built up alleys of wooden splinters
There won't be a smog hanging in the air.
That smells of thoughtlessness and despair.
Another wall built higher than the reach
Of a little hand. Another dream of sand
Obscured by the want of a better world.
Of men, match-sticks and paper boats
There would no more be stories told.
Tin soldiers once fell on grass lawns
Beneath whispers in hushed tones.
They did not know the colour of blood
Till the better world dawned up on
Their squeaky little dreams. They
Were told of fear and blood. Steel
Sheets would keep them safe now on,
But they cannot whisper to tin soldiers
And dance in blue shoes. Can they?