As I sit next to my daughter,
with crayons on the floor
a piece of me
in her puzzle; she
puts down each layer
in blue, gold, green
then red.
Another form takes
place of my existence
in fingers nimble, sweet.
A box of butterflies
on a wingchair and a magic carpet,
to be opened with eyes
in spellbound blue.
~*~
Comments
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very interesting...I like the way you layer each word upon the next....almost like a painting...very nicely done poet. keep on writing and sharing your talent...peace an dlight, kp
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Thank you for your comments. Very kind.
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