Toy-Making Poem by Naveed Akram

There when I played and told,
The hearers placated me with their ears;
Closing behind me, taking all the seats.
Before the toymaker and the officer
Started to take their breathing right,
You must sing on, play on,
Reign the heavens with your galloping
Horse, he is the heartened who is your
Friend, before the eyes have seen
Those closing in behind.

Some old sun has blundered and bought
The riches shining to the blindest,
Crying aloud like the wastes of Africa.