Sculptor (kid’s poems)

That child
building sand castles,
laughing when he squeezes
sand through his fingers,
throwing the water
about with abandon,
seeing how high
he can build the pile
before it falls,
with him half covered.
Laughing again
and redoing it.

He will be a sculptor.
It takes no seer to see.

He will be a sculptor.
It takes no seer to see.

Moon and Earth.

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