Kinesthetic

He is the kid who wants broken toys
For what they once had been:
The glossy picture in the magazine
Swirling up dreams and fanciful things.

And there is no intimidation in a garbage bin
Because he doesn't think he'll ever understand
Until he has the pieces in his hand
Put together with his strongest glues,
The laces on his shoes,
Adorned with sad, sticky bubblegum blues.
And the result will be...
Whatever it was supposed to be.
But his hellbent knees won't take a stand
Until the final product is in his hand.

You're a moonlight surprise
With your lovely dyes
And he shields you with his eyes,
Because he can't with his arms
And he sees how those kids admire your charm...

Even this boy gets tired from staying up nights
And all the while, his growth he stints
His youthful distractions avert his sight
But he can't have this fade until next Christmas print.