Saturday morning, early as the sun is shining down on my face,

Fall is here, there’s a coolness in the air, thoughts fill my head.

Under a beautiful oak tree of many years, I sit on this tree stump,

A stump that has a story, who might have been here before.

Sitting here I write, the land and world is my playground today,

By a creek with the sunlight looking down, I’m alone, a loud silence.

Sitting here on a tree stump I write my dreams down on paper,

I write about fantastic things that can never be done by me.

Possible adventures where I can travel down the road with a pen,

I have the imagination and power to create a world of hope and love.

Sitting on a tree stump I write poetry that I have hope will touch others,

Possibly make in their place a better day, I write all of you from a tree stump.

Keith Garrett


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