One two three, pick-up sticks.
One for the girl undaunted and brave,
Comfort, solace through the cords,
From a thousand miles away.
Trembling hands, unchartered lands,
One stick for the girl of age ten.
One reaps two, then three and four,
Like how one door closes only to open more.
Pick up that book, maybe
Pray to the heavens,
“Be careful with those sticks,
the rules say only one, not more!”
Three more sticks,
For the little girl to bear.
One other for a child in a house not a home,
Six years and counting.
Eyes clouded, but heart still pounding.
Five, six, seven,
For the girl building walls
Out of pick up sticks.
Pssst. Don’t mock me. I’m just trying something new.