The elephants at the zoo, lumbering in their cells, like deadwood floating downstream, where the mouth is closed. When kids arrive they put on a show. It brings them minute happiness to see the smiles, hear the laughter and to look into the eyes of freedom.
As the day moves on, it's a blur, as the sunny disposition is weathered and fake. Each movement of the trunks, calculated, silenced and each passing face, a tear.
Such sadness their eyes Windows wide open to see Pantomimes of hope
Each trip to the zoo, storybook. There's a tale to tell. Even those in silence,