The child’s eyes were so brightfully bold
Ever so fine
But ever so cold
How could a mere young child be taught
That life is life
And thought is thought?
Through a stained-glass window
He wished he could see
A world of his own
A fresh, blue sea
A cloud in the sky
A plain he could roam
A plane he could fly
A place to call home.
But then he awoke
Only to find
His one and only friend
Was left there to die
How could this peaceful yesterday
Turn into a disaster
That was full of happiness
And full of laughter?
This child was struck
With something he sought
That life is life
And thought is thought.




