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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1239237-The-Twinkle
by Stimpy
Rated: E · Poetry · Children's · #1239237
A poem about children, and how it was to be one.
The Twinkle

A grin, innocent but as devilish as can be,
guiltless with a mischief born of naivety.
Youth beginning, but already the master,
running rings again and again around his mother.

That infant curiosity, a spark in his eye,
lights up his face, a star in the sky.
No hate is there, nor anger nor pain,
these things are alien, life is a game.

The future will change him, every day he will grow,
tomorrow will be painful, but he does not yet know.
For now he is free, a child of light,
free from suffering, evil and plight.

To have that blank page is a thing of the past,
the truth for us all is we grow up too fast.
Innocence purity, things we all knew,
we were once children, even me, even you.

Guy Stimpson 6th March 2007
© Copyright 2007 Stimpy (guystimpson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1239237-The-Twinkle