448400
16
I picked up a pen
Ran around the house
Mama took it from me
She say, before I put my eye out
Too young to see logical reality
I reached for her to give it back to me
While in temper tantrum mode
On the hard cold dirty floor
She say, Shut up before
She give me something to cry for
I Found it profound
That the one thing
I was deprived of
Besides love & other things
I idolized the utensil
I could not put down
Using it for what it’s meant for
Write a sentence or two
Maybe three, four or more
Forming normal words
Nothing fancy nor formal
Spelling wasn’t harmful
Scribed verses in print not cursive
Upon penning my first poem ever
My eyes were opened
The pen became my pal
And magically I became a Poet.
