It’s in their blood, this love of words,

 those of others,

and their own too.

Son and daughter,

grandkids too, all freely share what

they’ve read and what

they’ve written – puns

and quips, rhyme and

rhythm. Some love the silky sound

of silence. Not

  my tribe. They love

words well spoken.

Below are two short poems my eleven year old granddaughter, Sami, wrote  recently.

A chosen path,

a winding walk,

a rumbling brook,

a screeching hawk –

how lovely is the world.

This one was written in response to the poem, INVICTUS.

To be a master of your fate

and a captain of your soul,

your soul must be an unsinkable boat

as the oceans of sadness

take their toll.