Drums and Saxophones

Hand unlatched
He’d quickly turned into the one-way street
Stolen by the lure of colourful uniforms,
Shiny trumpets, drums and saxophones
The rhythmic sound of army boots stamping
The sudden chill that clutched my heart

Rapid turns of my head
into tiny alleys that break
the monotony of the one-way street
furtive glances, looking for hope
in drug filled faces too bored to care

I start to trot,
breaking the careful pace of the parade.
Marching soldiers stumble, losing the rhythm of the band
My heart is beating louder than the mighty drums.
Cold sweat is pouring down my unfeeling arms.

Colours seem brighter,
silver tambourines are clinking
like a million pieces of broken glass inside my head.
The sound of boots pounding
is quietly driving me insane
I realize my mouth is open
in a silent scream.

Despair attacks
and I sit in the middle of the road
watching the parade go.
People turn and stare
wondering at the weight of my load.
Through the corner of my tear filled eye
I see the shiny red of his little shirt.
I start, and then stop, seeing the terror in his eyes
Drained of excitement, my four year old
has realized he’s lost.
PoP © 8 Aug 07