He's all grown up

Tiny hands lift
He cries out for mother
She picks him up and holds him close
And rocks in back to sleep

Small hands grab
The dirt feels good in his hands
He looks up at his sister
She picks some up too

Rough hands hold tight
The suit case rolls along the floor
He sits in his seat
And looks out the window

Pale hands pick up a controller
Button's press and c sticks move
His eyes fixed on a screen
He barely moves

[...] Read more

poem by Hannah Heins
Added by Poetry Lover
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