Earlier this week, I was greeted to my gmail account with an e-mail from Literary Life Bookstore in Grand Rapids. I had won the Poetry Contest for my age group. Now, my age group only went up to age 12, so I was the oldest aged person competing in the category. But really, I'll be damned if I let that get in the way of my happiness. This poem was really part of my homework for my social studies class. Early American Literature project on Emily Dickinson.
The Whisper of a Child
The whisper of a child
So sweet and innocent
Prevents a mind from recognizing
A child's mischievous intent
The whisper of a child
Could stop the sun from rising
And truly does the earth sob along
When the same child begins crying
(you should know this isn't the poem that won the contest. I'll post that one later. Probably.)
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