Translate

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

WHISTLE by Ricardo, age 9
















On a string
around my neck,
its color brightens my chest.
Small enough to hide in my pocket, 
its tweeting invades my mind.
I drop it.
It breaks into pieces on the ground.
I put it back 
together with glue.
I blow it again
but now its sound
is broken.

No comments:

Post a Comment