Zeenat Iqbal hakimjee
As the child looked with his eyes wide open,
I thought, on innocence I would write a poem;
Unaware of the sins committed by society.
Oblivious of death and calamity:
Playing with a toy gun in the hand,
As if the real one has not harmed the land;
Exist, does a lie, denied,
The solemn truth will always preside;
Early in the morning shall I arise…
To greet with a surprise;
The coin planted in my garden
Shall hurst into a tree?
With the money, chocolates I shall buy
And build a house, Hansel Gretel style