The Blues: A poem I wrote ...

... in fifth grade (It seemed appropriate for this snowy month):

 The Old House

The old house on the hill

is ever so still

as a cold, cold wind whips toward it

The old house sighs

as a little mouse cries

for winter has begun.

We had a student-lit magazine in those days called The Writer' Cramp, and The Old House was my first published poem. (The most recent one was a Valentine's Day haiku I wrote for a Boston Globe contest about eight years ago.) I wrote a lot of poetry when I was a kid, and gave most of them to the school librarian, Mrs. Hickey. She died around 10 years ago. I've visited her grave a few times; she was a really nice lady. Come to think of it,  I don't think I've ever met a librarian I didn't like.