Some, when they see them,
are prone to predict
the gloomiest of futures.
But now they are children
with children’s thoughts and youthful minds.
Like the plastic they mould into shapes of fantasy
they are moulded by life,
by the things they see and feel,
not the things they may want to see.
Is there even one among them
who will hear the cry of the birds,
see the first beauties of spring,
smell the fertile living earth,
not diesel, tar and concrete?
Who is anyone
to say what might be?
This was published as part of Kilkenny Library Poets on Board scheme for January 2012