Child
Softly smiling, made of gold
Melting gently something old.
Growing quickly, like a weed
independant, now from me.
Learning daily, from the child,
like the spring, sweet and wild.
This poem is about:
Our world
Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741