The Masterpiece Of Scribbles
.
He gasps and points with a
Wizened finger
“This stroke here is just brilliant.”
She narrows her eyes in
Utter confusion
“Uh sir, this was made by a toddler.”
He gazes at the paper, colors
Scribbled in
“Does that mean it can’t be brilliant?”
She sees random and strange lines.
He sees a child’s joys spread out on paper, and what’s more brilliant than joy?