A Poet

Apparently I'm a poet and I guess always have been but didn't even know it!

My mom was cleaning out my childhood closet and found a poem written in my handwriting about my relation ship with Tenielle.  I don't remember when I wrote it, but I do vaguely remember writing it.  For Christmas I typed it up, put it on velum and then put a picture of Tenielle and I behind it when we were little.  Here is the poem I wrote for my sister. 
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My Sister, My Friend

When we were only little girls

So many years ago

We would have given anything

Just to see and know

A picture of our future

The outcome of our lives

To see ourselves all grown up

Being women, mothers and wives.

And when I think of whom we’ve become

And how very far we’ve come

I think of the beginning

And where we started from.

We’ve shared so much through

the years you and I

Our rooms, our clothes

And the last piece of pie.

Our hopes, our dreams

Our most secret wishes

Vacuuming, dusting

And doing the dishes.

Sharing these times while growing up

Before we had homes of our own

Back before call waiting

We’d fight over time on the phone.

I would tell and you would yell

We pulled each other’s hair

And through it all…eventually,

We both learned how to share.

Since then…We’ve never stopped

Through so many years

We’ve shared the good times and the bad,

The laughter and the tears.

For hours and hours

We would play

things that kids

don’t do today.

 

Remember our horses made of sticks?

They ran so fast and did neat tricks.

We’d tie them up at the end of the day

To be sure they didn’t run away.

Honorary musketeers

That was you and me

Back before Nintendo,

VCR’s and MTV.

We’d pretend to be mothers

And play house with our dolls

And sit for hours playing jacks

With daddy’s golf balls.

I can almost see us

Standing side by side

On the first day of school at the bus stop

When your new shoes hurt so bad you cried.

And then again on our wedding days

When we took turns as the bride.

At the nursery window when our babies were born,

We stood hand in hand and side by side.

Being a part in each others heart

For all the occasions of time

There to share all the moments

All of yours and mine

So here we are

How far we’ve come,

From way back where

We started from.

Still sharing our dreams

And our most secret wishes

Vacuuming, dusting

and doing the dishes.

Sharing this life

From beginning to end

With you as my sister

and very best friend.

For Christmas my aunt put together a book and so I wrote a poem about Sunday's at my grandparents.  

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Sunday’s Evenings At My Grandparents

Sunday evenings are the best

Because it’s time for our Young family to meet at the nest.

The circle of cars that I see from afar

Means the dum dums must be stuffed full in Grandpa’s Lollipop Jar.

Arriving at their yellow stone home on 37^th street

It’s for sure another Sunday evening won’t be beat!

We open the little latch of the front gate

As we smell Grandma’s roses or her purple and green grapes.

Grandma has gone all out with her holiday decorations again

Reminding us of each season before, now and then.

With a fire crackling and cousin’s mingling

We’re ready for a few of Grandpa’s jokes and a Diet Coke (or Pepsie).

It’s time for applesauce cake and to fill your cone with selections of ice cream

While we enjoy eating outside with our cousins on the swing or the trampoline

We catch up on the latest news of family and friends

And are bummed when the festivities of the night are about to end.

Grandpa sings a few songs from his favorite band.

And we never leave without a few lollipops in our hand

With a love ya love ya and a kiss on the cheek

We yell back, “We’ll see you next week!”