They polished the shoes and bent down to praise,
they hung clever posters and learned all the plays.
A drum got louder, a march found a beat,
and neighbours began nodding in tidy, clean rows in the street.

They offered neat answers with ribbons and bows,
promised order, clean lists, and fewer of those.
But maps made of rules leave no room for stray cats,
or the messy prayers, late-night debates, the small, stubborn spats.

So tuck your odd questions into pockets and coats,
whistle off-key on purpose, refuse the neat notes.
When the drums are too friendly and the smiles too smart,
remember: freedom lives in the messy heart.