A child's POV of dealing with a disaster and the gift of innocence.

Let's play pretend
drink tea with clowns
while they juggle bowling balls
and curl balloons into crowns.

There's a change in the air
an acrid stench of loss not easily avoided.
Still kids are yelling let's pretend. Let's pretend.

Sing with the dancing stick men.
We'll waltz around the campfire
singing songs, singing songs
laughing away the hours.

While the strong man in the uniform
watches us and does his duties,
there's a body near the bridge
don't go near it they say.
Let them take care of things.
It's not for you. It's not for you.

There's a man and woman
saying things not comprehended
of war, madness, disease,
restrain yourselves,
don't pay attention to the emergency sirens
speeding down the streets
flashing lights, flashing lights.

BANG! BANG! KABOOM!
A building topples downward

A little girl screams:
Mommy I'm scared!

No one can hear her except us kids.
We don't want to look. We don't want to look.
Kids are still playing.
Their parents no where to be found.

Near the funhouse
rubble rises three stories high
with a neon sun shone blood red
broken upon the ground.