i call this one, in my mind, ode to the inner child. i feel the second stanza says it all, ,,,the perpetual child,,,--,,,moments from the past,,,,---,,,,the play never ends,,,, i love these phrases and of course the child's answer of 'nothing' when indeed they are always doing something -- even if it is quietly reminding us of their existance still. kudos.
Interesting thoughts here. I'm not sure which way to take this one. I have the image of a child waiting for someone to play with them, but I am not quite sure.
life and trying to earn bread made me an advocate. mad at my own stressful self, turned to writing. poems mainly. but, there are several short stories published in my mother toungue 'bengali'.i live i.. more..