This is my letter to the world

That oftimes writes to me

In shiny college brochures

That beg, persistently.

The postmarked guides coerce,

Convince me through and through

That in my grades they see my dreams--

They tell me we know you.

But who am I? I do not know.

My hopes are strung like stars. 

Gardening delights me, 

As do words and canning jars.

But there's so much more to who I am

And who I'll grow to be.

I'm learning now, more, day by day,

This quiet reality.

Though I've acolades apleanty,

My garden teaches me:

I see whispered through the springtime blooms

Truths of summertime's beauty.

Just as the blossoms peak above 

The dirt and mounds and mess

That are among my garden,

I love them nothing less. 

I hope the same of me will ring 

True later in my life.

For now I dream for love and faith;

To bloom through coming strife.

So this is my letter to the world

That sometimes writes to me:

May we find, today and on,

Ourselves, to a greater degree. 

~Emily Elizabeth