SerenitySitting gently on a hill,Serenity by littlemp
Letting the wind tug at her hair,
Peacefully she closes her eyes,
Listening to the sound of birdsong.
She lays her head on a pillow of clover,
In and out, she breathes in its clean scent.
Sleep overtakes her quickly,
Nothing disturbs her slumber.
A bird hums a quiet tune.
In its notes you hear her name.
She opens her eyes slowly,
Sweetly she smiles, sighing at the sky.
"Serenity," the bird whisper.
"Serenity," the heavens echo.
"Serenity," the wind whistles.
"Her name," they mutter, "is Serenity."
4th of July D.C. woke up smiling. Today was the Fourth of July! She was so happy! It had been 237 years since the United States of America had become a country. She could hear America humming “The Star Spangled Banner” downstairs while he cooked breakfast. This was the only day of the year that he did. He was probably making waffles with strawberry syrup, whipped cream, and blueberries, so that even the waffles would be red, white, and blue. She stretched and got ready, slipping on an Old Navy flag shirt and jean shorts. She tied her hair back in a half ponytail and ran downstairs. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she tackled America yelling, “HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!”4th of July by littlemp
He laughed and hugged her, replying, “And to you too!” D.C. saw she’d been r
Every Book Opens a DoorA woman stood in a roomEvery Book Opens a Door by littlemp
From where she was standing she could see so many doors
Millions of doors to new worlds
Worlds where she could be a knight of the Round Table,
A wizard learning magic,
Or a young detective solving crimes.
Each world was diverse and unique.
She opened one door,
Into the world she had chosen.
When she was done with the world she had chosen
She shut the door.
And put the book back on the shelf.
Every book opens a door.
Birds of a FeatherBirds of a FeatherBirds of a Feather by littlemp
I am a bird with bright green feathers
There is no one like me that I’ve met
I’m alone in the world
My opinions are my own
I have no one to share them with.
As I fly along in the jungle of my home
I see a flash of bright green feathers
It’s another bird
How can it be?
I am the only bird like me.
I fly up to the bird with the bright green feathers
That looks like a reflection of me
I notice small differences
Eyes, beak, talons, and tail
I guess we’re not exactly the same.
I talk to the bird that looks just like me for hours on end
Some of her opinions are very close to mine
We both love the color green
We both love to sing
With other things that are similar as well.
However some of the things we don’t agree on
Like when is the best time to sing
She says morning is best
I believe it’s the evening
So there are some differences there too.
She is my friend despite the differences
Each of us is our own bird
I’m not alone anymore