Childhood Poems

Written by: Karlin K. Jensen

I leaf through a notebook,
re-reading old poems.
I cringe at the childishness,
the bare, colliding words.
 I think to myself.
Better to bury them quickly,
before they try to get out.
New poems must be written;
the old cannot be saved.
Or can they?
Can I perhaps rework them,
reshape them into something new?
Could better poems be created,
if old poems are revived?