When They Asked What You Wanted to Be
Last winter, the seniors interviewed my firstborn daughter, along with the rest of her kindergarten class. They asked what she wanted to be, and she said a seashell finder. This little poem is my attempt to encourage her to stay
A Light From The Shadows Shall Spring
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost, The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring, Renewed shall