Two brothers playing, no toys in hand.
They create a world with simple élan!
They race with such fury, they roar with great force,
as the villains are vanquished,and they triumph and stand.
They haul their small boat, made of a bottle of soap,
as it crashes through waves of the grass and the sand.
They play all alone, cause their mother works hard.
So, when there’s a fall they sit with no comfort at all.
They’ve learned to be strong, they’ve learned to be tough,
yet they play freely in a world that so rough.
There are great cultures, where falls are shut out,
yet, equally insisting that darkness should shout.
The walls are erected, and policemen will stand
at doors to guard and make sure things are grand.
Yet still in these bastions there lurks darker threats,
that rise from the hearts of young ones who’re bent.
Their hearts weep profusely while smiles shine brightly,
and anger burns deeply, over slights that were sent.
They’ve learned deep resentment, they’re lonely, forlorn;
their play is now virtual though their real heart is torn.
Two brothers playing, their future in hand.
Who will break walls down and give them a hand.
Two cultures crying in so different ways,
yet steadily teaching young men they’re not grand.
There’s majesty’s potential when princes arise,
who live in the present yet leave legacy’s surprise.
What’s needed are great hearts that humbly breathe life,
and leave a sweet legacy that turns strife into life.
The world is awash in the hearts that could be,
if only boys learned, that life given, makes free!
Author – Bill Tidsbury