Decide

Poem By Olivia D. Michaels

Sometimes I sit alone, and comes to me a poem
A poem to say how I feel, to let me know that life is real
For sometimes, I feel as if I am dreaming,
in a world, which I don't belong.
Then I will catch myself seeing myself in a song
For without poems, and songs
to express how someone feels
Life would be wrong, like a rod without a reel
I can take my pen in hand, and a poem then begins
I really don't understand
I feel as if I am a writer trapped inside
Within this body I try and hide
I take my pen in hand, and on the paper place it
It seems to write its own words, I must face it
To be a writer or not, I must Decide!

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Sometimes we see a stranger, and look at him and wonder why
He is dressed in torn, and tattered clothing, not like you or I With worn out shoes, that have no soles, and a worn out coat full of holes
What is his story? Will it ever be told? The one who looks deep down in his soul,
However, can't seem to make himself whole? No blankets to keep him warm, no shelter from the storm,

Library Card

I remember as a child going to the big library shelf
And picking out poetry all by myself
I would pull out my big wooden chair to climb onto
Being very careful not to scuff it with my shoe I would reach up and pull down the book