Breeze

October 1, 2008
By
The breeze draws across my face
And says, “Let’s play.”
But I can’t because
I must sleep
And then gotoschool
And then domyhomework
And then domychores
And then gotosleepagain
But the breeze
Doesn’t know what school is,
Or chores, or homework,
And the breeze never sleeps,
It only takes its leave,
To play somewhere else.
But the breeze does know
What ‘play’ is,
And what ‘sunandgrassandfield’ is
And what ‘leavesandtreeandforest’ is
And what ‘skyandcloudandrain’ is
And all the breeze wants to do
Is tell me what it knows
And learn what I know.
Except I don’t know anything
Compared to what the breeze knows.
Perhaps I shall make one day
A ‘playwiththebreeze’ day.





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This article has 7 comments. Post your own now!

Jim said...
Oct. 8, 2008 at 12:38 am
Your work keeps getting better and better! Thanks for capturing so well what most of us feel.
 
Pam said...
Oct. 7, 2008 at 8:41 pm
I can feel your longing in it - and
it stirs up my own. I love how you ran the words together to make the chores a "thing" and the outside things draw us out to want to experience them! Keep writing - God has given you a gift!
 
Eric Anderson said...
Oct. 7, 2008 at 8:22 pm
This poem describes feelings I have had many times this summer. Good work Sheralee!
 
Setfree62 said...
Oct. 7, 2008 at 4:43 pm
This poem is my favorite. I really like the the creative way that it was written, makes me feel eager to go outside to play in the breeze, as well as feeling the pressure of all the things that need to be done. Well done, Sheralee
 
Sandy said...
Oct. 7, 2008 at 2:51 pm
Thanks, a great poem! How I too want to go outside these days rather than domyemailswritestudyandmakephonecalls...
 
Auntie said...
Oct. 6, 2008 at 9:44 pm
Good Job!! Your writing reminds me of the poetry that I have written over the years. Keep it up, it is a good way to express yourself and your feelings that you have trouble expressing otherwise. It is a great stress reliever even for teens.
 
Jenu said...
Oct. 6, 2008 at 9:04 pm
I'm totally open to critique on this poem
 
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