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scribbles on white paper.

He scribbled,
making green and red patterns,
Forming them in ways only he could see,
Stopping now and then to lightly touch here,
To draw a thin line there,
A fat one beyond,
Surrounded by circles,
Then parted.

What pictures does he draw in his head,
His little hand unable to bring to life,
What beauty lies behind those eyes,
What majestic country side?

I wish that I could look into his mind,
And explore his creativity,
For I am almost certain,
He see wonders that are hidden from me.

Please tell me what you think

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Comments


  • InfiniteCaitlin
    February 7, 2007
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    Dang this is awesome, I love it, it has wicked imagry, and amazing vocabulary, I just really enjoyed this piece, great job!!!! this really touched me!!! just a great write, loved it.... keep up the great work!!!!!!