A poem about a baby, building…and a bit more…

Rainbow baby blocks:

Bright wooden bricks.

Scattered carelessly

On the thick carpet.

Cluttered, directionless:

Buildings in a ghost town.

Patterned, abstractly:

Junior art.

Happy stacking,

Brick up, bricks top

Higher, higher-

Poking the cream-painted sky.

A reconstruction

Of the leaning tower of Pisa.

Leftovers lie abandoned;

Worship at its foot.

The fat finger stretches, reaches for the distant ceiling,

And the last block wonders

On its miniature achievement.

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Comments (1)
  • stephencardiff on Mar 16, 2009

    Again nice work..

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