I found my poem,
Sitting on a shelf in an orange and yellow room;
Christmas lights hanging over every nook & cranny.
My poem was a shimmer in the dancing light from the bay window,
The smell of a typical perfume-y girls’ room wafts into the hallway,
The poem innocently plopped there.
I found my poem at a basketball camp,
Where all the players at the camp were better than me,
But I was the one who received the poem.
The coach screeched my name into the microphone;
As I stood up to receive it, I could hear my
Jealous friends clap and cheer my name
Because I had finally won something.
I found my poem with a plaque stating
That shouldn't let my uncontrolled
Circumstances get in the way of my dreams.
The black and gold etching provided my pride then and provides my pride still;
When I see it sitting on a shelf in that orange and yellow room.