My family is getting ready to put the house on the market to sell, so my mom has been excavating the dark abyss that is our basement. Last night she unearthed an interesting specimen...this (cheesy) (embarrassing) poem I wrote sometime around fifth grade:
By Myself
When I'm by myself
And I close my eyes
I'm a dreamer in a place
I'm a bird flying free in an open space
I'm a joyful tune to the ear
I'm a beautiful voice for all to hear
I'm a friend
I'm a smile to lend
I'm a peaceful river bend
I'm a glorious sight for all to see
I'm a flag that's flying high and free
An anything I care to be
And when I open my eyes
What I care to be
Is me.
I guess some things don't change...and yet I wonder if I'm still her...
2 comments:
Yep, you were born a gifted writer.
All I have from that age is some silly limericks. haha.
That's the kate i know. :)
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