6th grade is when I

6th grade is when I first read poetry We were reading out of one of those big textbooks I'd sit in class and count the ceiling tiles Anything other than read a poem To me poems were so confusing Why couldn't they just get to the point To much imagery and personification It was like reading another language Especially those old English poems The ones with thee and thine language I couldn't understand Why they didn't write normal 6th grade passed and 7th began The same kind of book I prepared for another unit of bore But bore never came Rather we jumped into the poem of Walt Whitman His poem of two paths He questioned Which one to go down With the poems final words Something inside me clicked I understood what he was saying And saw the beauty of how he said it A month or two later I can't remember the date My great-grandfather passed on Goodbye, I never got to say I remember the tears The hugs and the unspoken last words I could have at the hospital, or on the phone Said. But never did. I was sitting at my desk Tears falling down my face I wanted to say goodbye But it was too late. I sat there wondering how to say goodbye And that was when I wrote my first poem Tears on my cheeks, I questioned "Why?" The words seemed to flow The imagery vivid Nowhere else to go The pen flew across the page. I was terrible at writing Until that day Thats when I finally Knew just what to say. From that moment forward Each trying event that arose The pen was picked up And the words seemed to flow. Poetry is my expression A way to release To open up the corked bottle A way to finally breathe I still don't understand Thee and thine But I know what each poet is saying They are releasing their trying times Just like I did mine.