This first poem was written when I was 13 years old. I had experienced having part of my innocence taken away from me and I guess this was my way of trying to cope. This poem is called "Hope."
The sun kisses the pretty, baby, pink rose on a mysteriously bright morning.
The lake glistens brilliantly in this mystical paradise.
I emerge out of a deep, peaceful sleep.
As I walk across the gazebo floor, the sky suddenly becomes dark.
Lightning, crashes, flashes.
Thunder, booms, dooms.
Yet as I look out across the stormy land, I see my pretty, baby, pink rose untouched, unaffected by the blazing storm.
Wind whirls, curls.
it picks me up and sends me spinning all over the place.
Yet still there is my pretty, baby, pink rose untouched, unaffected by the blazing storm.
This place, this paradise is my perception of my world.
The pretty, baby, pink rose is my last strand of hope in my stormy world.
No matter what, I'm not going to give up in this on going storm.
I must learn my lessons and live another day.
Slowly, the rain stops.
The wind calms.
The cloud fades.
The sky is clear.
The sun shines.
My pretty, baby, pink flower shines again.
YOU ARE READING
Stories of My Life
PoetryI welcome you all to my world. You will meet a young me, a past me, and the me of today. Bear witness to my insanity as it unfolds in the Stories of My Life.
