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Little Ones At Play
 

I watch my little ones each day,
take joy in what they're saying.
Sharing secrets, laughter, tears,
innocently playing.

Zekiel can barely speak
at seventeen months old.
His laughter tinkles through our home
like liquid specks of gold.

Zara, three, is all 'pretend'
and does not understand
that Zekiel cannot comply
with her every wish and command.

He tries so hard to articulate,
using gesture and facial expression.
But Zara would prefer it secret,
no adults in their play session.

'Whisper in my ear,' says she
and pulls his face to hers.
Zekiel delivers a smacking kiss
and loud disgust occurs.

It won't be long 'til Zekiel
can really comprehend
and then he can join our Zara
in her sweet play of pretend.

By cherryk

© 2018 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Whisper In My ear (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Whisper In My ear (challenge has been closed)


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