smiling pastel purple and primary red
before a swathe of bright blue sky.
They hover over rusty tracks,
tucked just below a concrete crusted bridge;
the antithesis of youth.
Who are they smiling for?
What moment of hope do they engender,
in these dungeons of life,
where only drudgery and grime persist?
Still their smiles ring permanent,
a plastic happiness unwilling to relent,
out of gray dust and clouds they shine on,
from their invisible graves.