Time passes and the wee lad grows
He holds on tightly; in the throes
Of learning how to walk alone
It's bewildering this new unknown.
Meanwhile, he tries another skill
The joy of making sounds – a thrill!
He hears around him verbal noise
And wants to chatter, like all boys.
Mum and Dad do all they can
To articulate so little man
Can repeat and imitate a word
Alas, no breakthrough has occurred.
He babbles happily all day
But in what language? Who can say?
On the verge of talking, he's a hoot
With cheeky smile and gobbledygook!
(c) Poet in the woods 2015