A Song Of Myself Poem by Julianna Marie Claire

I celebrate myself and sing myself
For this is a song I write-
A story in books that sits on a shelf
With memories to incite.
We all reside in pages
In this epic tale of life.
I write a verse or two,
For a few around to read.
I write of all I knew
In hopes to plant a seed.
I write of these life stages
It is all we have that's rife.

A young girl dreams
She is only naive:
Life's all that it seems
-It is all we perceive.
Just wade in the creek
And roam amongst trees,
Tomorrow never comes,
We will stay young until we die.
Moments that will beat like drums
and dreams that make us fly,
Gather up each passing week
They all remain life's keys.

A young lady still waits
She desires to grow old:
To talk of love and dates
In the greatest story told.
To have fun and be free
To milk life for all it's worth.
She asks for the world;
To call it her own.
But is has unfurled,
It has all grown.
She's all she'll ever be
-The same soul since birth.

These lessons of a soul
Taught that higher we will climb
So that we can soon be whole
In a rapid race of time.
This is what life will send
And what every soul will save.
Laughs and cries,
Tears and smiles,
Truth and lies,
Stretch for miles.
It is all that we spend
And what I take to my grave.