(for Cameron) Looking down at the Little wrinkled face and The mop of black hair in my arms, I felt excited, holding a baby For the first time. Peeking through tired eyes, he tried To behold the newness of life, But was too sleepy from the Hard work of being born. Seeing his small hands and The little scratch on his face I smiled down at him, And he smiled back in his sleep. I wanted to tell him about What he was in for, All of the adventures and Surprises of the world. He was two days old, Squirming in my arms, And I thought about new life And how it moves from one boy to another. Mark Roberts, 11Windsor, California
Poetry-Reflections
The Best Thing in the World
The late August sun warms the carpet in my room. I sit listening to the sounds below me. Mom and Grandma cooking food in the kitchen. Dad putting the finishing touches on the cake Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends ringing the doorbell My brother running to the door with hellos Loud laughter sounds throughout the house Squeals of delight from baby Maddy’s discoveries “Come down Craig, you’re being rude,” yells Mom. It’s my birthday, I’m not being rude. I’m thanking God for the best thing in the world. The best thing in the world is this moment in my life. Craig Shepard, 12Camillus, New York
Alone
Alone is the homeless man looking at all the goods in the grocery market that he cannot have Alone is the refugees leaving all they ever knew behind, their friends, their houses Alone is the single pillar Standing in the rubble of a bombed building Alone is the Iraqi mother whose children have died From lack of medical care Alone is the turban among a thousand baseball caps Brendan Grant, 11Piermont, New Hampshire
