I am a bird playing in the wind.I am a feather drifting.
I am the shadow of a child.
I am the wind brushing against the leaves of an oak tree.
I am the summer.
I am the yellow rays of the sun.
I am a dreamer, a dreamer of all these things.
By Keegan, age 8...
In the early morning, alone at home with his mother.
(Keep dreaming Keegan, for I am a dreamer too and I see you. Mimi)
That is pure beauty. Keegan.
ReplyDeleteWish my poetry would sound that way.
Nana
Keegan, this is a terrific poem. You should submit it for publication. Keep writing poetry. You have a real talent. Love, Grandad.
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