“IMAGINATE”… A WRITER”S WORD
I was a handful so they say;
a child who was quite precocious;
Imagination personified in tales
that were often times atrocious.
Trouble was my middle name;
as my flare for story telling grew.
My parents scratched their heads;
not knowing what was true.
I scared my siblings; with tales
of beasts in the woods beyond;
and how they should not go for walks
alone down by Gillis pond.
“A creature lives there; covered in moss
and lurks below the surface;
he waits for children for his lunch;
to grab and eat you is his purpose!”
When my little brother ran
in such terror to our mother crying;
I got spanked; she seemed to think
my stories constituted lying.
Now I’m grown, too old to spank;
my stories told without a fear.
I’m free at last to “imaginate”;
and make up tales for all to hear.
Not precocious, nor atrocious;
now known as somewhat of a writer.
Its story telling, not a lie;
so it constitutes something slighter.