Grown

Short poem. (I'm bad at these, you'll have to read it)

Little Baby,

Little Boy,

Whatever have you done?

Why have you taken your mother’s good shawl

And run it through the mud?

 

Little Darling,

Little Girl,

Whatever have you done?

Why have you taken your father’s good horse

And run away from home?

 

Little Boy,

And Little Girl,

Where ever have you gone?

You have thrown away your fears

And gone to live alone.

 

Little Boy,

And Little Girl,

No longer little though.

For you have suffered agony,

And now at last you’ve grown.

Author's Note

This was an experimental style.