Why I Stay
The books my Grandpa read,
The words my Grandma wrote,
The things my Mother said,
The voice my Father spoke.
A song without a melody,
A gentle hand on tears,
A rythmn like a symphony,
To guide me through the years.
Who knows how it began,
As natural as the spring,
The words from all my past,
Began to build and ring.
I cannot keep them in,
No matter what I try,
I have larned to share,
Yet never to ask why.
You may not understand
What I have tried to say,
But someday, someone will,
And that is why I stay.
This poem is about:
Me
My family