I once said I wanted a pussy-
A cute white and brown one,
Soft curls of fur,
A creature to keep me company.
But all eyes turned at my words.
I spoke with the innocence
Of a child naming the world.
But language had changed overnight;
My words had grown teeth.
What happened to the days
When pussy was only a domesticated cat,
And “bang” was just a sound
Echoing down a quiet street?
Who edited our dictionary
While we were busy growing up?
When did childhood become
A guarded territory?
When did playgrounds require supervision
Not from scraped knees—
But from wandering eyes?
Where have the good old days hurried to—
When the schools were sanctuaries of chalk and laughter,
Not classrooms shadowed by sharpened fear?
Innocence looking over its shoulder hourly.
What happened to the days
When silver hair meant wisdom
And not reinvention?
When ageing was honour,
Not something to be concealed
Under polished surfaces?
Let us remember the markets—
Goods resting unattended,
Trust trading freely
Without surveillance or suspicion.
When community was currency,
And dignity required no branding.
Do you remember
When friendship was unfiltered?
When leaders led by example,
And pulpits carried conviction
Rather than convenience?
When fairness did not need footnotes?
Return to us the innocence we misplaced—
You architects of excess,
Designers of decay.
Which way shall a nation turn?
To the left, where nothing feels right?
To the right, where nothing is left?
Or outward—
Seeking greener promises elsewhere,
While the roots at home dry in silence?
There is an old saying:
A child who soils its home
Has nowhere left to sit.
So tell me—
What future are we rehearsing?
And who will recognise it
When it finally arrives?