There are so many kinds of children in the sun.
There are those who see the sun
and feel it for themselves.
There are those who do not see it,
but feel it all the same.
There are children in glass houses,
feeling the sun through the glass
but it burns them overpoweringly.
And then there are children in cement houses,
who are told about the sun all the time,
but have never been out to see it.
They draw bleak suns on walls
Paint it red and blue
Unimaginable that it should be warm
Unimaginable that something so grand
Should be of the same fire
Within their cement houses
The red fire scares them
And they know to keep away
The blue is inviting in its coldness
That innocent curiosity propels them forward
As much as they burn
It makes no sense to them
