I will write free verse, but I love classic fixed forms. This is a sonnet I wrote, inspired by visiting a local art gallery which was showing old 17th-18th century religious art. There were several pictures done of the subject of Jesus calling the children to come to him after the disciples tried to stop them; however, all the children were like perfect miniature adults - reverent, peaceful, clean, and solemn. I am a choir teacher and my view of children is different; I wrote this poem to contrast my belief in what it may have looked like vs. what these 300-year-old paintings' creators thought the scene looked like. With art, it's all in the interpretation.