This is my book of poetry that I hope to eventually publish with photos. |
| The daylight is there in the house, filling it with warmth. The front door is open, letting in the coolness of the breezes. But the house is empty, the people aren't home. The house is full of things to show the once occupation of it. But the silence inside is deafening, is suffocating. The lost little girl is praying, she is standing int the room, Alone and sad, wishing for a family and finding nothing. The sun is not warm to her, the breeze is ice cold. The house is a little too empty, and the silence too silent. But she stays, hoping the family will return. She stares at the walls so lovingly painted, The toys so lovingly chosen and tenderly played with, And dreams of a mother, a father, a life. |