broken windows life’s dreams jagged edges of hope seen from time’s curbside now lying in the gutter along with frayed pieces of humanity and discarded bottle caps of religion all awaiting the street cleaner called death
before the teacher could monitor the process the stronger children had grabbed the bag and removed all its contents so when the most timid child reached into the bag and smiled broadly the teacher asked why are you smiling nothing’s left the child replied i’ve found an untouched dream
