She would break the pencil
Sharpening the point
And then she would draw
Circles and squares and triangles
With a ragged line
Until the shapes turned to fields
She’d plow it with an eraser
She drew seeds in the furrows
Dab them with water on her fingertips
Until the fields turned to faces
Their mouths open to the sky
When you look at it your eyes
Are the sky looking back
At the smudge of you
Please see more heartwarming poems at - https://megiddo.tumblr.com/ - M ichael baumgart
more of Know -M i c h a e l B a u m g a r t series with @theloneword
photos from:
https://sift.tumblr.com/
