Scratch Poem by Trevor Toews
Scratch
Made from scratch we say,
We like it better that way,
And I wonder
Where does the original scratch come from anyway?
When my Maker, feeling creative,
Scratched around in the dirt
And breathed into a lifeless pile of clay.
Well, that's about as original as you could get
Is what I say.
The things I build,
I call them new,
But there's a catch.
Only the raw materials
(And me)
Were made from scratch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 7:20:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
