7

There's a children's poem

Inside of all of us, full of

Rhyming words and simple verbs,

Holding much more feeling

Than the evasive sayings and

Skin-deep phrases we use today.

Of course, no one will read it,

For it'll be rough-cut, a messy

Homespun piece made of

Leftover glitter and string,

That instead a tired mother keeps

Hung way back in her closet,

A token of pride and shame

Her son made from scratch.