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Orange Rose Mar 2018
A Gigantic Giant is mad at his wife.
He made her cry big, wet tears.
Now he's stomping around on the cloud-covered ground.
The sound is quite frightening to hear!

You can hear him shout loudest on dark, windy nights,
When a burning coal flies from the hearth.
He yells a bad word,
(One that I never learned,)
And the big coal falls down to the earth!

It fills up the sky with a blinding, white light.
Sometimes it makes little girls scream.
You can hear a loud CRACK so you know where it's at.
It can even burn down a whole tree!

A Gigantic Giant is settling down.
His wife isn't crying as much.
He sits down in his chair,
His wife brushes her hair,
They'll fight again next week with luck!
Description of a thunderstorm.  Meant to be read as though through the eyes of a child.
Orange Rose Mar 2018
My life is not a number,
Or a letter on a page.
I am more than any words I say.
I am more than just a name.

I am worth more than my salary.
I am not some porcelain doll.
My life is for the Living.
And I plan to Live it all.
Orange Rose Mar 2018
Once I was a Butterfly,
With colored wings I flew so high,
Up toward the sun in the clear, blue sky.
Once I was a Butterfly.

Once I was a tall Pine-Tree.
I towered above the canopy,
And saw all that there was to see.
Once I was a tall Pine-Tree.

Once I was a Shooting Star.
Beyond the Moon I soared so far.
I burned so bright but did not char.
Once I was a Shooting Star.

Once I was an ocean Wave.
I splashed the children while they played.
I touched the sand but never stayed.
Once I was an ocean Wave.

Once I was a Little Girl,
Who thought the Earth was like a pearl,
But saw her dreams dashed by the world.
Once I was a Little Girl.
Orange Rose Mar 2018
Oh little bird with such sweet sound,
Why do you sit upon the ground,
When you could soar and flit and flutter,
And get away from all the clutter,
Which threatens peace and clouds the mind,
And deafens ears and makes eyes blind?

I hear you singing from your tree.
Your music seems to beckon me.
To fly would be a lovely thing,
To soar above on feathered wings,
To escape from that which plagues me so,
And chuckle at the ground below.

Alas, dear bird, it cannot be,
For I am bound by Gravity.

— The End —