i've never been a structure
better crafted than the work of eager
school children's palms,
kneading clay into
and their neighbor's home,
built in blue without windows
pieced together in rough spheres.
if only we slept beneath a roof
as simple and plain,
we'd awake alike,
to realize color's of no value when it's all the same shade.
i wish we could be those young architects, infantile gods,
as once we were,
with a complex to make things smaller
and hearts warmer
tears more shallow
and cuts less severe
but we're misshapen monsters
standing long enough to be shoved
back into our plastic containers
and placed back behind cupboards.
Created: Feb 06, 2010Document Media