Artism

Little toes feel giant cracks beneath her feet,
Little toes don't fit into socks too neat,
Sensitive and sweet.

She doesn't see the world we see, more how it should be seen,
She sees it pure, raw and in awe the focusing machine,
through eyes of hazel they gleen.

Too slow, the pace, you find your face all twisted and uncertain,
Keep up, write more, don't face the floor, you've heard before,
drop curtain.

Imagination you can't capture because it's theirs to share,
If you're lucky and you invest the time, you will be picked to bear,
Listen to it and take care and thoughts will come in pairs.