Art

A short poem about a school art project. For more of my writing, go to andrewhenleywriting.wordpress.com

Treasured memento of wasted time,

more valuable than fractions

and treaties that built or broke nations.

Art,

or something like it to a 10 year old boy

choking on toxic paint fumes.

A blue and gold mist.

 

I think I may have liked it once,

but probably not. More likely my mother

insisted it be kept and displayed.

A certificate of creativity.

A replica

of those made by children

brighter and duller, louder and quieter, happier and sadder

than me.