My Own Prison

Masterpiece

When they were little, they scribbled -
As for the colors, they didn’t care
Their fists held tight around the crayons;
Circles and lines were everywhere

Through time, their talents surfaced
And true artists they have become…
Shapes and colours now have meaning,
It’s not like when they were one

They have learned to stay within the lines;
To cut and paste and glue
Art of cheerios and macaroni –
A true masterpiece, who knew?

Time and effort glue each piece,
No reason, nor thought of waste
Cautiously, the work evolves;
Little fingers stuck with glitter paste

And for a moment, time stands still
Sweet child creating what we hold dear -
A pure and priceless work of art,
For which we know we will never part