Although the day was loud all she looked for was a place with muted sound. 

Although the day was loud she went top to bottom looking through her house, to find a space clear of disaster. 

In the comfort of her own room she closed the door behind her, leaving freedom and peace to bloom inside her. 

In the comfort of her own room she now needed to find a task, if only to make things better. 

Under the bed, in her trunk, behind her closet door, her desk was all that was left. 

Under the bed, in her trunk, behind her closet door, her desk held a book. 

An intrigued state of mind guided her hand toward the object colored purple and stamped with tinkerbell on the cover. 

An intrigued state of mind moved her gentle fingers to open the book and find it was blank, except for only two words on the first page. 

"To you, from Grammy." This was a gift, the girl remembered as she sat down and stared at the words perfectly placed in the center. 

"To you, from Grammy." She was given the gift of free thinking and an outlet to place it all into, pages on pages ready to eat her words.

Noise filled the expanse of her house just outside her bedroom door, from the top of the ceiling to the dirty carpeted floor. 

Noise filled the brim of her home just a few feet away, and the girl only knew that she wanted to find a great escape. 

Her mind, running its engine, began to command thoughts and feelings, piecing together to make what she believed to be perfect sentences. 

Her mind, running its engine, was on full blast now as the girl grabbed a pen clipped to the cover and began to speak through ink. 

The pages were perfectly lined and were colored the image of sun rays peeking through blinds and all she had wanted to do was write. 

The pages were filling up, one after another, after another, after another, until the words were running out and her right hand was beginning to hurt. 

When all was done she felt empty and yet liberated, free from feeling too much and yet held by the comfort of letting go.

When all was done, the house was blissfully quiet and the girl was blissfully still, looking down at all she wrote with nothing short of a smile.

That was her first poem. In truth it was clumsy and some parts did not make much sense, some words weren't even spelled correctly.

But that was her first poem and you never forget your first because it is the key that opens the door to new beginnings, new chapters, and piles of never ending stories.