Someone’s selling garden roses down the square
People gathering by to breathe the morning air
But no one sees the bitter cold and shivering empty hands

school [bad word] by and trying to beat the bell
People dropping, tossing coins in wishing wells
But no one cares for dreams that don’t fit into our world

Maybe nightfall darkens skies
And maybe teardrops stain our eyes
But may the slightest light start a fire

soldier in the hands of a forgotten mess
Digging out the burning bullets in his chest
So eager, bold and noble – printing footsteps on this earth

Maybe nightfall darkens skies
Maybe teardrops stain our eyes
But may the slightest light start a fire.

© Bax Gozalov | 2014