For my nephew

Yes, one plus one does equal two.
Yes, you are right to feel that does not make sense.
Your confusion will only manifest with the days,
soon you will confuse ideals and morals,
the true blunder of humanity.

Yes, you are right to feel angry about a bed time,
soon you will feel weighed down by bed time deadlines,
lifes only means of keeping us all under the age of nine.

Yes, you are right to find wild fascination in playdough;
you are right to smudge the clay and clash the colors,
for you will find one day that these effortless creations
are your only means of escape from the structured legos of expectation.
Hold onto your ambition to disturb with purple playdough figures,
distort our reasoning; cause an uproar.

Yes, you are right to paint a picture of me this way,
with a charmed smile and inward eyebrows, I look angry.
You are observant for your age,
noting how your aunt feels lost, pessimistic in these days.
I can only feel proud for your bittersweet image proposal,
astonished at the six year old definition of my persona.

Yes, you are right to feel embarassed when you're sanctioned in front of company,
in years to come you will find this humiliation through self-doubt,
and you must never succomb to a pointed finger then,
point it right back and enjoy yourself.

Everything you learn and earn and small doses of knowledge
will only change form with experience,
perspectives change but roots remain, pulsing on a feeling.
The common position, appropriated to different years,
will curve your mind around in circles, so
hold on to your primary instincts, my nephew with a smile of gold,
it only changes form from here--
and now you know.