Is it hot in this room — 

Or is it my imagination? 

Did the polar ice melt — 

In a puddle of tears? 

Is that smoke in the room — 

Or is it our rainforest? 

Are those wild animals I see — 

Or are they just a mirage? 

Is that fire out there — 

Or just heat in my room? 

Are those dreams of our children — 

Swept with our brooms? 

Is that someone knocking — 

Loudly at the door? 

Do I still have time — 

Or shall I simply ignore? 

— Luan V Dinh

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