Quiet A little boy, a child, Perhaps three or four years old, Stands in the middle of a road. A very busy road. Cars speed past, This way and that. The wind of their passing Buffets his little body. He is not crying. He just looks a bit lost, Like he is thinking, “Well, this is not ideal. How did I end up here? I should make a move, maybe go find Mum.” Which obviously won’t end well. On the side of the road Someone notices, points and screams: “Oh my God! Look! Help! That little boy! He isn’t wearing…