the ice cream palour

i walked up to ice cream palour, stopped at the edge of the door, looking
to the edge of the market square where the stone patriot had always stared
along the street so many mothers sighing, their children were left crying
while the newsman wept and told the camera, "its all really ending"

i walked down the street, and picked up a little girl
tears that ran down her cheek left clear trails upon her face
she cried "where's my momma" and that she wanted her back
i said, hush now baby child momma's not coming back

the cops finally came over, clearing away the crowd
curious onlookers, yet some did weep aloud
the queer whos partner, left lying on the street,
knelt and kissed the feet of a priest "please, can't you do anything?"

and i thought, was there anything to be done at all?