Worms are the Christ <br />of small children, <br />who love to pull <br />fat, wriggling things <br />from dark earth. <br /> <br />They walk about <br />with the creature <br />in an outstretched palm. <br />'He likes me! ' one child <br />marvels with wide eyes. <br /> <br />Petting the worm, <br />they don't notice <br />it's moving less and less, <br /> <br />Or they leave it <br />in the 'worm-box' <br />without soil, <br />carrying the box <br />around by the handle, <br />explaining the worm's inertness: <br />'He must be taking a nap.'<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/worms-are-the-christ-of-small-children/
