Poem Never Read

This is a poem that was never read.

Packed in a box—forgotten instead.

Stuffed in the attic never yet to be seen.

Hidden deep down under wooden floor beams

This is a poem of a poet, and her

Words were about all the bees and the birds.

And the things that she saw from the window each day;

In the summer—the sun. In the winter—the gray

This is a poem that none understood.

It wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t that good.

But it was so special—so set apart,

Because it revealed the author’s own heart.

It shows what can happen when one is old with no friends,

And is left all alone with a paper and pen.

Creativity flourishes in a world that’s unkind.

Though it was old and abandoned, she had a wonderful mind.