The child is a poet with innocent eyes
And a bumpity A-B-C rhyme,
A dancer whose feet with the rhythm of life
Move in jubilant one-two-three time.
The child is a doctor who heals with a kiss
And treats with a serum called smile,
A researcher who seeks out the meaning of life,
Then explains it with unflinching style.
The child is a chef who makes sandwich and Kool-Aid
And thinks it a royal repast,
A hero who battles the monsters and villains
And renders our land safe at last.
The child is a teacher, a sleuth, an explorer,
Controller of race car and ship,
Possessor of limitless spirit and mind
With holster and gun at the hip.
Reflections of children shine pure in the eyes
Of those who are watching them grow,
Remembering times when the sunrise meant journeys
To lands where adults cannot go.
Written in 1987
PLACED FIRST in Nina Parmenter's I Can't Believe I Wrote That Contest, December 2018
March 14, 2019, entered in Mark Toney's Poetry Marathon, Mile 24
March 7, 2022
entered in the Throwback Challenge Poetry contest
Sponsor: Natasha L. Scragg
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2015
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