A Child's Heart
He sat on the floor, cutting away,
with scissors too big for his hand.
The clippings of paper, littered the floor,
like countless grains of sand.
Perfection for him, just had to be reached,
or this was a waste of his time.
It would all, just be so easy for him,
if he could just follow a line.
Frustration grew, as patience fled,
the scissors hit the floor.
And tears now stream down tiny cheeks,
he can't take it any more.
Then the reason why, he strives so hard,
reached down and kissed his face.
She picked up a piece, of tear stained pink,
paper trimmed in lace.
A jagged shape she did unfold,
almost in two parts.
And when she knew, she smiled wide,
It was her child's heart.
Copyright © Greg Blythe | Year Posted 2014
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