A child scribbles on a wrinkled page.

Eyes closed. 

Hands free.

Red crayon flying wild 

in unchained shapes

and unchained lines.

The soul/sole veracious art.

The sweetest song.

All along the blank. 

 

And with the final stroke

comes the disquieting stare

of a mother who long ago forgot

the wisdom behind

those random, wicked lines.