Hopes.
When my parents are old, I'd love to show them flying cars in our country. I'd love to show them that the man who washes cars Also owns one. I saw an ad the other day Of a girl cross-dressing to go to school. I hope that it turns into a choice, Not the necessity that it is for some. I hope there are lesser people With their hands outstretched at street lights, streaming eyes And more of those who are able to give. I hope we wear our identities proudly on our chests, But not so proudly to be haughty to those who carry badges of different colours. Or those, who worship different gods. I hope that all the little children of my country run amok in the streets And jump over pebbles to go to school, And don't wipe the dirty dishes in a grubby restaurant. Or someone's house. I hope women don't have to think twice before leaving the house at midnight, Or when they raise their voice against the pay gap. I hope there are more ears than voices, And that no