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A revolution consists of undying tears flowing from the eyes of the pretenders, when bouquets of multi colored flowers become grenades of love thrown from the hands of children like paper airplanes behind a teachers back,

when little girls pull petals from stems like pins seeking the advice of dandelions as if answers suddenly exploded after the last petal touched ground,

wars become snowball fights and puddle jumping is considered basic training, while the old sip from the fountain of youth, reincarnated through the eyes of their grand childrens laughter,

a smile is a fist raised with pride and handshakes become playground peace treaties settling territorial differences on who gets the swing next, as trust lives on like comrades diving in front of water balloons to save friends,

hugs nourish discouraged souls like bundles of rations parachuted from helicopters to third world sadness, and theme songs to Saturday morning cartoons are sung proudly with one hand over purple hearts, <b>like universal anthems over war cries of victory</i>.