little soldier boy

It is a cold day in melbourne. Walking through the market stalls a chance item catches my eye. A small plastic toy, a little solider boy. Such a contrast for such a youthful figure dressed to play an adults game. His story unravells in my mind. This worthless trinket develops a fantastic history. A history that may finally give value to its artificial being.

This scared little boy. His dreams were dashed in the ravages of war. Promises became deceit. And what was right became what was wrong. Surviving, yet without sight of what to live for. The world is nolonger the safe playground of his childhood. He shivers in the cold melbourne weather. This brave little boy. He remembers he once smiled, and in that moment he departs. Abandoning all he has, except the hope for some distant home. Taking his first step away from the front line, now he is a enemy to all but himself. Not quite a boy any more, yet not quite a man. No mapped out route to follow, only the cracked face of a compas to point toward the future. Leading him from the present. His mouth begins to smile once again.

I craddled him in the palm of my hand. He was the only thing worth keeping.