I watched you with a 4-crayon pack, Filling letters with a careful hand, Each stroke a single color. Halfway through, I touched your tiny wrist— "Try filling the other half of the letter in a different shade." One gentle suggestion, then I let go. Minutes later, I saw the page, Blended, mixed, striped with life. You'd gone from blocking letters To creating art, With just a touch Of my hand to yours. Never lose the gift to listen, And let your mind weave its magic, When the guiding hand Comes from love.