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Andrea Sampson

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

1 poem·Since November 2013
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Olive Child

November 4, 2013

A woman of Black gold, gave birth to an olive child,

Strong and mighty was she to stand by a father who stood to just pretend.

Made sure her little peice of hope in this world was warm, fed, and fast asleep everynight

Waking in the middle of the night to give milk and nuturing to a crying face 'till she was sound again

While the father who pretend watched and set off for the night of God-Knows while she worried at home

She prayed, she knew there was hope, for God had told her, that her beatiful gift, will succeed in the tough world we call our own

Not only succeed but over acheive, where she will stand tall at the top of the world, strong and ready, to repeat this cycle again

She was greatful and thankful for her mother's grace, that helped her soul to grow and manfest in the whole...

 

-Andrea Sampson

 

 

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