I am but a child

I am but a child

Obsessed with words

Daily, I sit by the loom

Weaving words

In my head

I am but a child

Who has seen

Many seasons

But none to completion

A change here

A change there

And I am still a child

My words come like bullets

Poka! Poka!

My words come like roses

It's all soft

Like awwwnn

I am but a child

Touched

By the gods of creativity

Laced with the je ne sais quoi

I am that child

Today I will paint you a picture

A picture of dancing words

I want you to see with me

See with your mind's eye

As I paint

It's oil on canvas

It's a drop of bile green

On a splash of freedom's blood

It is a most colorful portrait

So sit back and enjoy

As I paint my picture

And I remain that child