So in the spirit of nostalgia, I'm going to post another super super old poem. This is the first (decent) poem I probably ever wrote on my own accord (IE not for school). I wrote this back in the summer of 2006. Because everyone loves a fourteen-year old Cali.
Enjoy!
~CD
To bawl over a ball,
As we haul it down the hall,
We wholly call it holy,
But lo! They call it lowly.
For twelve hours it is ours,
Till a flower subsides to flour.
Till we four just venture fore,
And our sores, oh how they soar!
We see it fall to Sea,
And the light flees like a flea.
And behind the tee of tea,
What can it be? A golden bee!
We say, “hi” as it floats high,
And by and by, a good “Good-bye.”
Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre
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