Draws Divine - Poem by Ima Ryma
When I walked into my son's room,
Jimmy was busy at his desk,
Drawing something, I did presume
Would surely be quite picturesque.
The great works of my 3 year old
Hung throughout the house in array,
For all who walked through to behold.
My Da Vinci - what can I say?
'Jimmy, what are you drawing now? '
I asked, and my son looked at me,
And said, 'I am drawing God.' Wow!
So I replied, seriously,
'But, no one knows what God looks like.'
'You will when I'm done, ' said my tyke.
Comments about Draws Divine by Ima Ryma
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl