Quiet, in the still of night
Or dark of early morning
Contented notes of tender joy
Infuse a new day dawning.
Grandma’s words come back to me
Patient, kind and wise.
She taught me how to look at life
With clear and joyful eyes.
I used to really enjoy writing poetry in school. I even made a few side dollars by writing poems for other kids to turn in. Yeah, I know. I was bad.
What happened to that creative, open girl who felt so inspired?
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