Poetry Past

Books & Chocolate Thoughts for Thursday, April 28, 2011:  When I was twelve, Francie came home from college for winter break and worked on a project for a creative writing class.  The project was a collection of poems to be written about the twelve months of the year.  She asked if she could borrow my ear; so of course, I sat down like the good little sister that I was and listened to her recite her poems.  December nights are glorious with the lights on Christmas eve… the rosy cheeks of a young child and dreams which are conceived… I was mesmerized, so much so I memorized each poem and when Francie was away at school, I would recite them to all my friends.  On Francie’s next visit home, she toted the completed project replete with illustrations, bound like a perfect book, and fittingly titled: Twelve Months.  “It’s for you, Ginge!”

Now that April is coming to an end, I bid the month farewell with one of my favorite poems from Twelve Months:

When you find yourself daydreaming for hours at a time,
When acting like a nut is no longer a crime,
When instead of a skeptic, you’re now a believer,
Don’t fret you old softie, you just got spring fever!

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