I am child from what’s arround.

Give me light, I’ll give it back,

You give black, I make you dark.

When it passes you - that feeling,

I keep it - magic ink on paper.

Bend it - you will see the troublemaker.

Anyway, we smile to one another,

You paint the air, I breath it

and then exhale the half for you to keep it. 

I’m a child, we play the ball.

Pass first to me, pass back to you.

Just like the grey home wall you knew,

keeping count of your hard kicks.

With little scratches on some place,

but still going strong, on pace.

Moving towards you so slowly,

waiting for the time to come,

when all your childish games are done.

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