The Poet spot

Written by: Vicki Acquah

When I was young 
I longed to 
be surrounded by trees,
water and flowers 
without bees,for
fear I might get stung: 

Overreacting I would run...
act a fool when I'd see one.  
But no-matter 
the price,bees or not, 
I had to be in my poet spot.
 
My poet spot was there back in
the day,but now it is not. 
The sun would undress me,
I'd just sit while the 
soft breeze caressed me.
  
There I could ponder,
with the water trickling 
underneath my feet. 

No one knew this spot,
I'd always go alone,
so I could think 
my selfish poet thoughts....
In my Poet spot,the spot
 
I deemed to be just for me!
Thinking clearly now,writing freely,
Breathing oxygen in,
I wrote so freely back then....
I'd put back on my clothes, 
and dry off my feet,watch 
a butterfly carefully....

I let the beetle free ,
who kept me company
against his will. 
Made two Praying Mantis fight.
I knew this wasn't right to write.        
Then I'd go home .