She said the head was too large,

    the hooves too small.

    I could clean my paintbrush

    but I couldn''t get rid of that voice.

    While they watched,

    I crumpled him,

    let his blue body stain my hand,

    I cried when he hit the can.

    She smiled. I could try again.

    Maybe this is what I unfold in the dark,

    deciding for the rest of my life,

    that donkey was just the right size.

    By: Naomi Shihab Nye