A girl with a pencil
And paper in hand.
Her imagination beyond limits,
As she dreams up new lands.
A book full of sketches,
Of things she's never seen.
When her pen hits the paper,
There's a reality to her dreams.
A boy in his basement,
With an old bass guitar.
They see the tattered strings,
And say his dreams are bizarre.
A microphone gripped tight,
As she steps on the stage.
And her fingers they tremble,
Her story starts a new page.
A shredded, stained tutu,
And some old ripped pointe shoes.
A small girl with big dreams,
Of her ballet debut.
These passions we hold
In a place deep in our hearts,
And although we may fail,
That's what makes these things art.
We may not have the equipment,
Or the skills or the smarts,
But there's a little imagination
Inside everyone's hearts.
-
{e.o}
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Get Found Poetry
Poetry"Poetry is what happens when for a moment the mind stops working, and all we do is feel" Poetry is my expression. My escape. My therapy. These are works that I have compiled. Some are happy, some are sad, all are 100% pure.
