I'm from dusty old books lined neatly on the shelf,
Surrounded by visions of fairies and goblins.
I'm from night-time stories and day-time fantasies,
Each more wonderful than the last.
I'm from adventures in a tree house,
No, a castle, or a pirate ship.
From afternoon snacks of cookies and milk,
Followed by midday naps.
I'm from because I said so and hours of unwanted chores,
Each of them teaching me responsibilities in their own unique way.
I am from a great family tree whose roots stretch farther than I could ever see.
It supports who I am today, and it nourishes who I'll be tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
What Writing Can Say That My Voice Alone Cannot: A Poetry Collection
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry that I've written a long time ago as well as recently. They will include the themes of love and nature, as well as angst and sorrow. All credit for writing and artwork goes to me unless otherwise noted.
