Fine Arts Of The Five Year Old
One might say
that I do not know the world,
I just eat boogers
and play in dirt.
One might say
that all I can do is scribble,
But the thought of others
will cause me to quibble.
My art is but a masterpiece;
Each stroke delicately placed.
For when I give it to my mommy,
It’s only hers to embrace.
Others will only see,
A circle and some lines.
But when her eyes look upon it,
She will love it because it’s mine.
She’ll say it belongs in a museum,
Hanging with the best.
No I’m not Picasso,
But she adores it nonetheless.
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