When does one become a poet? And how? Is it that first verse you're forced to write in elementary school? Is it the first time you string words together not because you have to, but because you want to? Or is it because you're at your gramma's house, with a refrigerator covered in magnet words, with yesterday's frig poem still clinging there, begging to be rearranged?
|New poets; perhaps, the cutest ever.|
And I had to take a video of it because it's so epic a picture couldn't capture it. Quite the odyssey.
By the end they had accepted their new status as poets, and proudly referred to their creation as 'our poem,' as they read it aloud and showed off to anyone who passed through the kitchen, or opened the refrigerator, and entreated me 'DON'T TAKE IT DOWN.' Like all frig poems, good or bad, it will come down eventually, but I told them it would be saved, one way or another. They are braver than I, these little blond writers, so I pay them homage here, with the first poem of their oeuvre.