The century I was born in, boy could boys,
with endless dreams.
The world was a beautiful place.
I was a tiny adult in a child's frame. No one
told me I was too small to write a poem or to
I had a childhood, where today a child's grows
up in a fast pace world of computers, cell phones,
and self-driving cars. I had a stick pony, that
even in my dreams took me to far away places,
and anywhere I wish.
As a child my eyes grew heavy
as fishing weights, as my stick pony and me
drifted off to sleep.
Pictures of different sizes, colors,and shapes,
forming in my head.
Sail boats floating by, as if cotton candy
in the endless blue sky. As laughter from my
lips drifted in the air ,and added to the fun.
A Red Dragons with strong, needle sharp
teeth, stayed closely by me.
Large yellow triangles upon his back.
Every breath he took had orange fire
coming out of his mouth, that smelled of
Claws as long as my hand, and as sharp
Defensing me against the evil of bath
My pony and I awoke to a bright and sunny day,
with treasure yet for us to explore.
In the background I heard my mother running my
bathwater, and I pulled my sun colored blanket,
back over my head, pretending to be asleep.
In this time and place and century I was born in,
it was Ok to be me. The me, God made me to be!