Dew

This poem dates back to my middle school or early high school years. I don’t remember writing it, but it was found in a small collection of works printed on an old dot matrix printer back in the day. So here is Dew, presented as typed.

Dew

i walk out into the yard
it is morning fresh and clean
the dew drops twinkle on the soft grass
i am in a dream?

if it is a dream
never let it go away
the beauty of the soft mist on my face
takes away all of my worries

i bend down to the ground
to touch the new fallen dew
it moistens my fingers
it changes me into an animal in the forest

an animal walking the forest path
with dew on my feet
i prance around the ground
with morning on my toes

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This poem was found in a small stack of paper that had been stapled together. The header page says “Heath’s Poetry Collection” – likely one of many that I printed out as a kid. There are only about 5 pages with a few other poems included. Some I recognize and others I don’t remember at all. There’s also a story about what it might be like to live in the woods which I may post later.

It’s odd looking back on things I wrote as a kid which I don’t remember at all – and sometimes can’t even figure out why I would have written them. There must have been an inspiration somewhere, but it eludes me. Mostly I find them confusing and weird, and maybe that’s the point.