rich in language.
words are my footmen,
my handmaids,
my suitors
overflowing and unchecked,
verbose, garrulous, pretentious;
pages upon pages
I am Noble.
I cannot see the end of my treasure
but I know it is there.
words are the roses in the garden
that I walk amongst every morning
enjoying, solely for my own pleasure
comfortable in my stability;
a life of well kept paragraphs
I am Common.
simple pleasures,simple words.
words are the neighing of my horse,
the callouses on my hands,
the hard work
the rewards of my harvest,
carefully spent, never wasted;
a few well chosen sentences
Then in a whisper...
I am Poor.
Language is a forgotten dream.
the emptiness felt,
even the flavor of what I'm missing gone
I catch a glimpse of the horizon
the castle, a speck on the landscape
words are a fading fantasy
not a word
not a letter
to my name
Author Bio:
Dylan Manning is a 10th grader at The Green Meadow Waldorf School in Chestnut Ridge, New York. She has just returned from a four month exchange in Argentina and is enjoying her first month of poetry class. She is 16, plays the violin and piano, and recently competed in her first Olympic distance triathlon.