There was a little toy, it was a rainbow toy.

But it would not start, and it would not run.

Everyone said it had no heart; that it was no fun; no fun

to romp and play with.

The truth is that it was never given a proper nudge or a

gentle push.

It had a dent, a scratch, and a broken wheel.

It suffered also from a short-circuit and a worn-down battery.

Now there was a little boy, and he was a rainbow boy,

Who had a broken heart, who thought only of guns and

pipebombs to play with.

When he dreamed he dreamed only about killing, about

maiming everyone.

And he rarely smiled, for he had never healed,

Because, as a child, a helpless child, he had been beaten and battered.

One day the little rainbow boy, so gently picked up the rainbow toy—

And all of a sudden it started! The boy had only nudged it, but

it started—and it started him.

They both laughed out loud! Rainbows are obscured at times

by clouds,

And every sad and broken heart can start to heal;

It’s where and how we touch it, how we nudge it that matters.