My heart is a dark cabinet
Its interior locked and dark
Cobwebs sit in the pointy corners
Organized slots from A to Z
The corners are pointy
The inside is musty and hollow
Small, boring, and ugly.
Its outside is gray and drab.
It feels hard and rusty
Smelling metallic and old
When you talk into it
All you get is your own echoes.
Worried yet? How about this one:
A Beautiful Morning
A beautiful morning starts with muffins and hot cocoa.
A morning like this should not be wasted with playing.
A beautiful morning must have rain.
On a beautiful morning,
Kill a pig for breakfast.
Now tell me, if your children wrote poetry like this, would you be worried? Or would you be glad they are enjoying themselves and enjoying writing so much?