This was the first poem I ever wrote. I wrote this a couple of years ago and obviously, I thought every poem had to have a rhyme scheme (I was like 11, gimme a break). I’m not a huge fan of the poem, but its something the foetus me wrote, so I’m moderately proud of myself.
She opened the door which held the future
Of the world, that she had just began to love
She shut her eyes and wished for nature
She prayed to the heavens up above.
She gently opened her eyes to discover
A little pathway, with dim light
She walked till she found her only true lover;
A small book with so much might
Her small little body was being burned by the sun,
The book in her hand was the only one,
Which still existed from the past
The book she was holding was the last.
She started to weep and then scream.
Finally she woke up from the dream.
On the floor, she found a book dead;
Left there carelessly, after being read.
She picked it up and it she hugged.
It asked her what was wrong
to which she just simply shrugged.
She would not tell her lover what was wrong,
She was to keep her dream with her for very long
Finally she regretted opening the door,
That brought her happy self a little lower.
But, she was glad that it was all over.
She had books all around her,
And the time she had, passed slower and slower.