Courtesy of Mama Kat's Writing Challenge and brought to
you by me, here is my “I AM” poem using the template available over at her
site.
This was really fun to do, for me, since I am NOT even close to being
poetic. As a matter of fact, there's not one poetic bone in my increasingly large body (my Italian mother has been feeding me for 8 days straight. I LOVE PASTA!). In my next life, I swear, I’m coming back world famous for all the
poems I will write and publish!
I Am
I am passionate and
gregarious;
I wonder what my life will
look like five years from now, I really do, because I know it will be much
different than it is today;
I hear the sound of my
sweet Ellie's bell jingling around her neck and it's as if she never left us at
all;
I see hummingbirds and
butterflies fluttering all around and they land on my outstretched arms;
I desire the saucy and sassy romance story in my mind and at my fingertips to come to fruition and someday find it's way into someone's hands to read;
I am passionate and
gregarious.
I pretend to be a comedian and can really make "me"
laugh but mostly at myself;
I feel like I'm different
everyday and different from everyone else;
I touch hearts, really
reach out and try, and that's my personal goal;
I worry I haven't taught my
children as much empathy or compassion as this world of ours needs;
I cry because time is
moving too fast, and I haven't finished all that I intend to do, and it won't
slow down no matter how hard I wish it;
I am passionate and
gregarious
.
I understand that I'm
responsible for my own happiness, and nothing is perfect or guaranteed, and
that the simpler I live, the happier I am;
I say live and let live
without judgment. I plead!
I dream of a life full of
laughter and love ever after every day and every night;
I try to smile at everyone
who crosses my path even when it's difficult or I'm not feeling it;
I hope to grow old with the people I have in my life right at this very minute and that every day we are
able to make a memory together;
I am passionate and
gregarious.
