As I begin to clean up the daily disarray
Of my 5 year old tornado
I pick up the pieces of crayons.
They live in a plastic sandwich container
With a mismatched lid.
Their original box is long gone.
During their daily commute
From the toy cubby to kitchen table
And back again
They mix and mingle,
Bumping elbows and rubbing shoulders,
Leaving flecks of colors on one another.
The white crayon is especially flecked:
Burnt Sienna, Sepia, Sunglow, Scarlet, Gold.
To some, it might look
Dirty, marred, ruined.
But when my daughter draws with it
On purple construction paper,
It is a veritable kaleidoscope.
It is more than white.
My daughter makes masterpieces
From the stumps of wax.
Each piece is a new and unique color
For having mixed with the others
Each piece of wax is now an exclusively
Unique contributor to my
Daughter’s world
Which brings a special
Richness to the artwork
On my refrigerator door.
About the Creator
Tammie Peters
As a recently retired English teacher, Tammie is now putting all those lessons of what makes good fiction, poetry, and essays to use in her own writing.
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