Questions.


A garden full of swings,
Some, high, some low, some only bling,
Yet all give joy to the child,
Who taught him to like this? Who taught him?

A shake full of strawberries, very pink.
A shake full of chocolate, very brown.
Who taught it to be dark?
Who taught it to be pink?

The boy with the brown hat,
The girl with the red sash,
Who taught them to be proud so much?
To ignore the smalls?

So many questions, no answers at all.
Answers all obvious, staring at us tall.
Yet questions we ask, yet answers we want,
I refuse to say anything, I choose to stay MUM.

-Stuti

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