Because it's Beautiful

New kid on the block, my English comprehension at most seventy-percent, new eyes on me--I felt the tension. The librarian smiled at us, a Shel Silverstein in her hand, what was her name? I don't remember, but her voice rasped like sand. When she read though, I heard not a coarse voice, she went high and low, smooth and soft with poise. My English was terrible, so I closed my eyes to feel, the beauty, the melody, the words that made everything surreal. I not only heard but saw the poems that were being told. I could see the cat's paw and smell the roses being sold. I write because hearing poems out loud is more than beautiful. It's outside reality--up in the cloud, nothing can be more wonderful. I want to hear my own work being spread by children everywhere, maybe those joyous hearts will spring when it's music, not words they hear.