These children rarely regard the future, blissful and wise, in their disinterest, in newspapers. Their understanding is full, emotion, still, superseding, rules. Before you turn, please speak to me again of the musical stream. Before you retreat, please remind me, what I lost. Before you nap, please affirm my belief, these transitions will continue, and your head, will remain, forever, on my chest. Promise me, you will not allow fireworks to shield clouds, you will not care for a nation, you will not clamor, over injustice – and instead you will fix, upon rancor, you loving gaze. I am in a forest, without direction, and tomorrow I may feel, fear. But now I smile, mildly, drowsy, my vision soft, and clear.