a small, growing hand
now learning to stand
traces the papers
like a great painter
each stroke has purpose
though they look worthless
to some, they're priceless
memories timeless
now learning to speak
each week after week
gaining more knowledge
with every message
sitting up, alone
in places unknown
and soon to be found
with worry and frowns
close eyes must be kept
yet no one has slept
up every hour
no time for showers
though young and quite small
and past a slow crawl,
much troubles are brought,
many battles fought,
the worth is greater
memories savored
for this growing mind
is one of a kind
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryJust a bunch of poems I'm writing. They may not be any good but I like them. I'll try to update it every once in a while with one or more poems.
