The day I was born I was given a dream catcher.
It had a bark circumference and a ribbon web.
The ribbon was pale pink with baby blue trim.
It was hung on a nail from my ceiling.
Each night I would wind up the string and watch it unwind.
It would spin around itself at a soothing pace.
By the time it was still, I was asleep.
My eyes would be closed by my mind would keep racing.
My thoughts have no limits while I am asleep.
If I dreamed something sweet, my dream catcher would save it.
If I created a nightmare my dream catcher would grab it before it could get to me.
When I could not fall asleep my dram catcher would listen to me talk.
When I cried myself to sleep my dream catcher would send me a calm dream.
I liked to stare at the ribbon web and find different shapes.
I could create stories from words hidden in the web.
The color will never fade.
The spin will never slow.
And my dream catcher will never run out of space.
A Pretty Picture
She doesn’t write in pen,
it can’t be erased.
He doesn’t write in pencil,
She showers at night,
it relaxes her.
He showers in the morning,
it awakens him.
She is shy,
stays to herself.
He is outgoing,
mingles through the crowd.
She plays guitar,
writes her own music.
He is a singer,
writes his own songs.
She watches the sun rise,
paints the blending colors.
He watches the stars,
knows each constellation.
They live together in a small white cottage.
They are the definition of a pretty picture.
They complete one another for the better,
As they walk down the boardwalk hand in hand.
Age 16, Grade 10
Fiorello H. Laguardia High School of Music