You start out small,
wrapped in a blue or pink blanket.
You learn by tasting everything,
Including your own fingers.
You have little fuzzy hair,
Hair that slowly grows.
You take your first steps
torward the tall person
holding their hands out toward you.
once you learn to run,
you run from your soapy bath,
and your parents!
You learn to write your name,
And how to add.
You get your first locker,
And your first schedule.
You're a Freshmen at high school only once.
You grow to be a senior, eventually graduating.
And becoming one of the tall people
who first looked at you when you were born.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Blood. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks