By Suzy Zhou
(freshman poem in response to Naomi Shihab Nye's poem Valentine for Ernest Mann) The sound in my deep heart, continues to ask me, where do your poems hide? When I walk to the basement, the books, paper lay down there, my poems hide in the dream. When I walk to my bedroom, the bed sits there, my poems hide in the dream. Looking outside the window, the bed sits there, my poems hide in the dream. Looking outside the window, the apple tree stands there, this tree never grows apples, justmy poems. Listen, the sound in my deep heart asks, where do your poems hide? If you quiet down and think, the poems are everywhere around you.
2 Comments
Stephanie Elliott
4/26/2017 06:30:29
This is wonderful! Playful and tentative and somber all at the same time. Thank you for sharing it!
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Romaine Washington
4/30/2017 12:07:16
Thank you Stephanie... I will let Suzy know.
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