Child's Play.
This is the first real poem I ever wrote. 1980, age 10.
Sometimes pirates sail the sea
Until they reach the shore
To find a great big golden key
That fits into the magic door.
When finally they land upon the shore
They’ll set out to find the key,
The one that fits in the magic door;
The one that sets them free.
1981, age 12.
The horses run wild and the horses run free
Through the meadow along the waters’s edge.
The sun beats down on the dew-glistened grass
While the horses run wild and free.
Sometimes those horses stop in despair
And sigh at the heat of the sun.
They stop to drink from the gentle stream –
Those horses running wild and free.
Time goes by, still the meadow they roam
While the grass turns from green to brown
And the stream from water to ice, through phases of sun and moon.
Still the horses run wild and free.
