We’re born into a tactile world
That slowly slips away
As eyes and hears become our doors
And windows into play.

And soon we find that we can change
The way things sound or look
By singing songs or coloring
On paper or a book

Or even walls or anywhere.
And so, we color much,
But would do well remembering
That we’re meant, too,
For touch

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “Coloring”

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