Sticks and stones

Tearing across the playground, chasing a butterfly his eyes land on something glinting in the sunlight He picks it up, holding it this way then that A wobbly shaped stone, coloured blue and black

Oh! he is going to be rich, its a treasure … to add to his treasure chest, its so precious! he runs home, and quietly retrieves a box hidden in his little drawer, under his socks

The box holds his precious possessions a medley of different shapes and hues all sticks and stones treasured for so long trophies of his forays into the playground

His heart blooms, as he surveys his treasures adding the latest stone to the pile with pleasure how wonderful, he is as rich as a king or perhaps richer than all the kings!

Watching from the doorway she smiles oh! her sweet and innocent child Her little prince, surveying his kingdom his little treasure of sticks and stones