Toys here and there,
they are everywhere.
Little boys,
run around,
bringing in mud off the ground.
The tracks lead to where there hearts desire.
You are first mad,
then you see there faces sad,
you say sorry,
then the hugs come flying.
You see the beauty,
but in an unusal way,
it's in the mess.
The dirt and grim,
the sour lime,
the beauty is there.
Then you see,
it's the child in you and me.
The dirt and grim,
show an old time,
Beauty is your childhood and mine.
A contest entry
- Define Beauty. by FlaviusArrianus.
950 points, ended June 14, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
tell me what you think please
Comments
-
So, true. You just can't help but love children, no matter how much mischief they get into, when they love you first.
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