Childlike Poem by Mathew Lewis

Words spill from me,
Not tip-toe but rolly-polly
Onto the floor.
But they’re two-year-olds not teens
And they don’t make any sense.
They simply fall over themselves,
Especially when around you.
They’d like to make sense.
They stutter and gurgle
And point distractedly,
A mime effect,
A struggle for clarity.
With big blue eyes
They look out onto the world
Confused and irritated
Because no one can understand.
Instead a cheek is taken
In forefinger and thumb,
Squeezed tightly
And then forgotten.
And my words are left
To totter off
To find others of their kind,
Who might just understand.