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by Erick Du Toit Ceronio

Sometimes a picture comes to mind
Of a boy, innocent and kind.

Playing with his toys in the sands,
Building roads and bridges with his little hands.

Today his hands are big
And he still builds roads and bridges- using trig.

Where real trucks and cars drive by
Safely under an African sky

How the hourglass spilled its sand
I've tried so hard to stop it with my hand

But in the end it doesn't really matter
You are still my big brother...
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Poem ID: 78012   Poem Posted: 9/13/2004
Viewed: 4748  Voted On: 17  E-mailed: 3  Commented On: 1
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Copyright , July 2004,  all rights reserved by the author.
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