As I have grown it has faded
But still it remembers
Deep within its fibers
I look down and see a world I never knew existed
An ocean of green, full of life
It has recorded my life since I was young
All the memories it must possess
What if it could speak?
What would it tell to me?
Would it flow with stories like a river?
Or might it whisper secrets like the wind
As a movie, it plays the events before me
Spread out, like a book, beneath for me to read
Like an empty canvas waiting for color, for life to occur
As I lay upon it, my mind wanders
What is it trying to say?
So many memories and on one to tell
Then the evil comes and erases it of all its shades
But still it remembers deep within its fibers
Wednesday, January 19
Sunday, January 9
Melody
The melody takes hold of my spirit and released me into the heavens. I am falling in love with the notes as they entrant my being. Four muscle-molded hands at play; belonging to fellow brothers. Together they make sweet music flow. Practiced joins with unskilled fingers to make my soul sing. The tune accompanies my thoughts as they wander through time. Classical swiftly transforms into staccato, which glides into a dissonant chord…, captivating my attentions. Passions flowing from their fingers; the tempo quickens, pulling me faster into the swirling adrenaline that floods the mood.
Saturday, January 8
My Place
I wrote this for an assignment in seventh grade....
My place is mine, no one else’s. My place is open and green. It is cool, crisp, warm and cozy. My place is my room
My room has a big window. Outside is the lilac bush. The sweet smell and brilliant color fill my room. The plum tree is also outside the window. The delicious fruit I can reach out and get. The life-giving sun fills my room and feeds my plants, as it warms my room and the world.
My carpet is a sea of blue. It is so soft it begs you to lay on it, to sit and read. My walls are gray and green. Not the gray of cold and sadness, but the gray of a soft warm blanket in the cold winter. Green is the color of outside, of nature. It comforts and relaxes you into sleep.
My wall is covered with my works. All my best drawings and doodles cover from the floor to the ceiling above. My likes, dreams are portrayed there. Friends and memories there are hung. My wall is a place I like to look at; I like to remember those moments that fill my memory.
My place is mine, no one else’s. I love my room; it has become part of me.
My place is mine, no one else’s. My place is open and green. It is cool, crisp, warm and cozy. My place is my room
My room has a big window. Outside is the lilac bush. The sweet smell and brilliant color fill my room. The plum tree is also outside the window. The delicious fruit I can reach out and get. The life-giving sun fills my room and feeds my plants, as it warms my room and the world.
My carpet is a sea of blue. It is so soft it begs you to lay on it, to sit and read. My walls are gray and green. Not the gray of cold and sadness, but the gray of a soft warm blanket in the cold winter. Green is the color of outside, of nature. It comforts and relaxes you into sleep.
My wall is covered with my works. All my best drawings and doodles cover from the floor to the ceiling above. My likes, dreams are portrayed there. Friends and memories there are hung. My wall is a place I like to look at; I like to remember those moments that fill my memory.
My place is mine, no one else’s. I love my room; it has become part of me.
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