Innocent hands
play children’s games
and pretend to be
grown up.
They scatter rainbows
amongst open hearts
while craving
independent moments
of knowing what
to strive for,
of choosing destiny
instead of reality.
Puerile patterns
dance on youthful cheeks
of those just learning
to flap their wings,
while longings
for adulthood
hang them precariously
between freedom of choice
and simplicity of home.

(Another vocabulary poem for my students)


2 thoughts on “Peurile

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