Black shoes, with white laces tied in a butterfly knot,
Treading dust all along your path
slipping from the grasp of what is called ‘twilight’,
A brilliant twilight because a thousand children are carving kites
On the dusty imprints of your shoes, they now stand,
Smiling innocently and grimy,
some merely dancing as if they were eternal,
even their very joyful laughter doesn't stop your shoes from hurrying away
The butterfly knot of your laces,
those children long so much to touch it,
even like Bengal beetles
they would pawn half of their heaven-like twilight
just to caress it
But you pay no heed,
caring for nothing but your favorite rats, pregnant from gluttony
Do you think the light across those thousands of children is as false as your golden teeth?
So that when they dissolve in unrestrained laughter, you remain unmoved.
You merely turn away in your haste to watch them drenched in action
with cans
with guitars
with dances
with snot running up and down,
before you leave them again
and they still laugh with shimmering light
Black shoes, with white laces tied in a butterfly knot,
Treading dust all along your path
slipping from the grasp of what is called ‘twilight’,
A brilliant twilight because a thousand children are carving kites;
you should have touched them
just as their longing is to touch your shoes
which would quench their thirst
for decades.
Don't you know that even in twilight they shine?
Where have you ever seen a star that glows in twilight?
Black shoes, with white laces tied in a butterfly knot,
Do not pass by so hastily,
for the seemingly eternal smiles of the children await you
adoring their light, as beautiful as twilight