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A Typical Day - (Boy One)

The morning sun comes creeping slowly through the curtains,
The warmth of the blankets like a cocoon; warm and safe,
The smell of breakfast wafting its way through the rooms,
Calling everyone to come greet this brand new day;

People gather at the table, all smiles and Happiness,
Plans are made, and schedules set; and there is Love in the air,

Afterwards, it's off to school to meet with his friends,
Each of them waiting, laughing as he finally arrives, thanks to Mom;

In school, he is educated-beyond even what he can imagine,
There are no borders he cannot someday cross, or touch,
He mingles with his friends as they learn, and play, and grow,
And at the end of the day, he is anxious to see them again Tomorrow;

When school is dismissed, and all the day's duties are done,
He finds that he has ample free time to do with as he would please,
Whether on the Play Station, the Internet, or the nearest playground,
There is always something to do, and plenty of food to eat;

As Night falls; they gather once again at the table to dine,
Stuffing themselves, and telling tales of each of their days,
Safe, secure, fed, and nourished happy in each of their lives,
Not even aware how easily it could all just slip away

"A Typical Day- (Boy Two)"

The hot morning sun approaches like a panther from the glade,
The cold, earthen floor of last night still numbing his young bones,
The smell of Death, and blood, and Fear in everything around him,
And no one greets the day, because no one Trusts the day;

No one gathers at the table because there is no food for anyone,
No plans are made, no schedules set; Time no longer has Meaning,
There are no schools, and no one is allowed outside even if there were,
No one laughs; no one even bothers to remember what laughter is;

He is uneducated; ignorant of his world, and the world around him,
There are nothing But borders that he cannot cross, things he may not touch,
He mingles only with those to whom he is related by blood and bond,
No one else is to be trusted-not at any time, not for any reason;

Bombs explode constantly around him-the wails of Death no longer meaningful,
Soldiers march past, each of them picking and choosing their next target,
There is no free time; as each minute of every day is spent merely trying to stay alive,
Each moment lasting an eternity; each day, one more brush with Death;

As night falls, no one gathers at the table, as there is no food to be had,
A stray rat wandering in becoming like that of a Thanksgiving Feast,
No safety, no security; the word "comfort: not even a part of his language,
Knowing all too Well how Easily it can suddenly just slip away;

Two entirely different Lives,
One incredibly similar World,
And Both of them-just a Typical Day

Learn more about this author, Denis Vogt.
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