What once was a child's castle of disillusionment
Only remains to be used as the whimsical wonderings
Of a lonely young boy with a solitary pair of slicing scissors.
Now with the easily frustrated fragility of a child,
It is taken from its torn tower of grandeur.
Left empty, unfulfilled in its fullness it remembers
A tortuous time of Homer and Shakespeare.
It strengthened steadily through Roosevelt's Reformation.
It gave guilty witness to Kennedy's Killing,
Trading its tricky secrets with Truman's Temple.
It once was an infrastructure of naturally created Complexity,
Lying in careless, crumpled abandon on the floor.
But Daddy, its only a piece of paper
