saida

Once I heard the sound
of the wind in the trees.
Once I heard the sound
of the laughter of children.

And I wept warm salted tears
for the lost trees.

"Let them come onto the trees, and I will
give them hope he said"

But there are no trees for
the poor lost
poor children.

Dispare is their game,
Hope is their dream,
They only have chaos
to climb.