Heres to the crayons
Red, and blue
Green to red
Purple and violet
All wonderful
Sights to be seen
A wide rainbow
Trapped
Meant to be
Seen
In a wide open box
Waiting
Patient
Wanting to be used
Ready,
Willing
Needing
To be used
Heres to crayons
Chewed crayons
Glue Covered crayons
Put into a slobbering mouth
That has tiny
Ungrown and underdeveloped
Yet sharp little
Teeth
Heres to crayons
Rolled over
Or crushed
With toys and tiny toes
And thus,
Smushed
Into clean, good carpets
Thrown away
Or smeared
Into the wooden
Floors
Or transformed
Into crude art
Made with stubby,
Short sausage like
Tiny fingers
Heres to the first use
Of a crayon
The delighted look of any child
Upon opening the package
The trembling fingers
Of withheld anticipation
And secret glee
Of the possibilities they can explore
With the crayon
The first use of the crayon
And the first signed art
On the walls,
Ceiling
And floors
Heres to the primitive urges
To write,
Scribble
Grafititize
Color
And ruin
Any place possible
Whether garages
Halls or
Bedrooms
And the reward,
Of this gleeful
Vandalistic
Actions you take
Is an annoyed guardian,
Or babysitter
Heres to poor substance
In wax form
Crayons
Food, yet not food
In the eyes
Of a small
Hungry
Child
Who gnaws
Chomps
And chews
Until only
A small,
Pathetic looking
Stub remains
Heres to things meant to be thrown away
After being used
50 no
80 no
200 times
After being crumbled
Thrown
Scraped
Broken
So that
It is
Literally
And figuratively
Shattered in service
From time and long continued use
Heres to the host
And backbone
Of kindergartens
And to the love
The pride from the work
Of a small child
Who had succeeded
In creating
A drawing
Which is
In the parents mind
Worthy enough of The Sistine Chapel
And is kept
By any
Parent
Grandmother
Grandfather
Aunt or
Uncle
Long enough to be loved
Admired
Praised
And the child
Is rewarded
And gets,
A hug
And a kiss
Satisfying
That happy child
Heres to crayons.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem