I look up to the sky with thanks.
As the clouds flee from the sun,
I see a bird flying high above.
My family is very kind to me.
They say I have my grandpa’s smile.
They laugh when I tell a story.
I start to run through the cool breeze.
I speed pass the roses and lilies.
A swing is hanging from the maple.
When I turn around, I begin to laugh.
William Wayne Smith
I publish several poems weekly on Patreon for subscribers only.