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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I have many happy dreams of my childhood life, Mother and father and grandma made it special; Playing make-believe was something I really loved, I could do that for hours and hours and hours. Father made me a table and chairs for tea parties, I even had a cabinet for dishes donated by mother; Pretty dishes that I dreamt of having myself one day, And now I have lovely vintage dishes in my home. (I like to set the table with mixed-up dishes) Grandma provided some of her old clothes and jewels, Now I have a passion for vintage clothing and jewelry; I adored my dolls and still I have many of them on shelves, They used to sit on chairs listening to my stories. Mother said, "that girl sure can tell stories and stories," I could ramble on for hours and hours and hours; And the bud of a writer was blooming in childhood play, And now I write poems and stories gossamer. (I write of my childhood dreams and my life) It soon became clear that I loved animals of all kinds, Carrying them home for repairs and tender loving care; Father said, " she will either be a vet or work in a zoo," I became an advocate for animal rights and protection. Always I have loved cats and my first came at Christmas, Snowball was her name and I dreamt of owning all kinds; A steady succession of cats have brought me happiness, My old fat cat reminds me of a childhood stuffed toy. (My kitten needs to grow into her big ears) Of couse I dreamt of meeting my prince charming, And I did, the moment I saw him I knew love; My heart and soul is his forever and for all eternity, Our love is like a stream that goes on and on. I once had a good job with the welfare department, They sent me to Hudson Bay to help the Inuit; That work was so rewarding and filled me with pride, But the child in me had dreamt of much more. (I loved the beauty of the north not the poverty) I never dreamt that I would ever become a nurse, But I am and this job brings me happiness; Helping the elderly has become my mission in life, A frail hand in mine brings me tranquility. So much of the child who was me remains, That little child dreaming and rambling on and on; She still exits in my soul and she still dreams, Even sometimes she plays make-believe. (That girl dreaming , she now dreams poems) ____________________________ August 11, 2015 Poetry/Narrative/Playing Make-Believe Copyright Protected, ID 15-699-064-0 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym. Submitted to the contest, New or Old 5 Sponsor, Eve Roper First Place
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