Eloise has been “writing” poetry since before she could write. She would give me a pen and paper and dictate her words when she was four.
She was filling journals by the time she was six – with words, with pictures, with poems, with short stories.
She keeps them private. Very private. Rarely does she share them with me, let alone with the world.
She is not a child who looks for praise or wants attention on herself.
She does everything she loves just for her. She doesn’t want applause.
I love her for that.
I had asked her last year if she would blog one day a week for me – or perhaps once per month. She bows her head down and to the side and whispers no.
I ask again once in awhile, and she again always says no.
Last week she wanted me to read one of her poems.
I was honored she asked. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and a light hug and told her I loved it..and then I asked if I could share it.
Surprisingly, she said yes.
So for you sweet readers…enjoy…
come the children
through the grass and the
bumpy road heading
the slide the fence the clock
On their way to migrate