A Poet by the Louvre.

My Hands

These hands

are,

barely enough to,

Grace all the lands,

this heart, desires

too, big for

this, apple tart

For my,

mouth is,

so small yet too,

big, my appetite

For life, is just

too big,

I could just

curl up into a,

fall until I,

trust all,

But I

am but a girl,

too small

In this world,

I fall,

Will do.