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Playtime

by Angie Jenkins

Isn’t it charming,
her imperfections
scattered
across the page;
Once straight lines
gone askew,
with colors
morphed into unnamed
hues.
Laughter
filling the room
as she spreads
her paint tainted hands
through the carpet.
Feet swinging,
one sock
flopping lazily
side to side
as the encrusted
tomato stain
on her cheek
crinkles
when she smiles.
Unkempt pigtails
bouncing
like springs,
swaying to the tune
of “I’m a Little
Teapot,”
then shaking as she
giggles and starts over,
forgetting the words
halfway through.
I stare at her in
amazement,
wishing
I were as lucky as she.

02/12/2010

Posted on 02/13/2010
Copyright © 2022 Angie Jenkins

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Jason Wardell on 02/14/10 at 09:22 AM

This is great; I love the phrase "paint tainted hands." You should definitely write more often. :)

Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 02/14/10 at 11:12 AM

Ah, this is sweet. This poem has very good flow and rhythm as it accurately describes the play life of a toddler. Good job. Enjoyed.

Posted by Jody Pratt on 01/18/12 at 05:54 AM

The OCD in me wants to clean this child up, but the child in me wants to be part of the fun. Great description. :)

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