My Book

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    My Book

    My Book

    Sometimes late at night
    Sitting alone by myself,
    I reflect on so many things
    Most of which sits in book on my shelf.

    Within that book
    Is everything I hold dear,
    It is pieces of my life
    That bring a smile and a tear.

    I often wonder
    If that book will ever end
    But it is the one certainty in my life
    On which I can depend.

    My dreams have given me wings
    Throughout all my days
    And at night alone and by myself
    I fly to a place where I find my way.

    I stand hard as a stone
    In this world I cant rise above
    But within this book of mine
    I will always find peace and love.

    The End.

    October 25 2007
    By
    Shannon McGrorty - Hunter

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    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    twablondie’s Poems (11)

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