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...