We, The Children

Children running silently,
We boys and younger men and little girls,
Decipher the abstract codes,
Of happy ventures,
That may never come.

We, the children
Declare lustful undiscovered infancies,
In soft hues
Of yellows, reds and blues.

We indeed pressed our thighs
And our faces
Upon rusting steels and
Left our pale faces,
Pregnant on the mirroring dust.