As soon as I could write  I remember writing poems  In little notebooks that were cute and shown  I would like the way they sound  And the way they rhymed  The way they looked  Short and concise.  And that I always knew what to say  Because its just the way.  They grew in my heart  And when I had hurt to express You best believe I could not write a better poem.  I had stopped for some reasons Mostly due to pain and suffering  What had happened, happened in this specific period  But this story isn’t about that  In this … Continue reading Fruit Trees Remind Me