Mother Tongue - Poetry

Nothing appeals more to me
than seeing little kids
speak, in their mother tongue.
Nothing comes near the thrill
I feel, when twist and turn, trill
and churn, come out with polish
and cultural relish.
The way a thing is said,
may make it prettier yet,
than the thing itself.
To be there, when they tell
of the wonders of the world,
in enthralling fairy tales, saying
things never said, playing
with words as with clay,
feeling no consciousness of self,
makes you stop
and feel the shame
of those who swap
for fake acclaim.