From My Pen
It snowed and snowed on the day I was born,
and for that reason I love f a l l i n g snow;
in dreams I walk the frozen woods till morn,
and from my pen the words just drip and flow.
From a child- I was quite q u i e t and odd,
choosing to read books and write my words;
I would wander in nature and be just awed,
loving the songs and beauty of sweet birds.
A bird of g r e e n is singing to me a song,
and on my hand she comes to look at me;
I hold my breath and she becomes a friend,
of this gothic girl so deeply sad and forlorn.
Was born to weep- to write my verse in blood,
a cold wind reminds me that I must wake;
and snow is falling s o f t l y in my dream,
it snowed and snowed on the day I was born.
______________________
Re-write from May 11, 2016,
Poetry/Verse/From My Pen
Copyright Protected ID 16-834-622-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, 100 In A Row Contest 17
sponsor, Poet Destroyer
Fifth Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2016
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