I have no idea when this was written, I was in school
still, that's all I know, maybe in eighth grade?

*A Child's Prayer*
by April Conyers

The winter breeze swiftly blows,
the melted snow clearly flows.
You sing a song I cannot hear,
though the words are very clear.

The little girl is picking flowers,
even though they'll die in hours.
You draw a picture I can't see,
Though the lines are sure and free.

A raindrop falls from the gray sky,
a chipmunk heaves a heavy sigh.
You play the music, but I can't sing,
though the notes are clear as spring.

As you can see, I cannot hear,
I cannot see, and I will never sing.
But I can think of pretty things;
of singing flowers, that grow and sprout,
of little boys off catching trout.
And I can run and play,
I can think of songs and rhymes.
And I can giggle, in my mind,
I just can't laugh aloud like you.

See, there are plenty of things that I can do.

(next poem written the same day)

*A Meadow's Song*

A thin sheet of ice coats the ground,
small patches of grass show all around.
A blackbird swiftly flies overhead,
the world is silent;
without a thing to dread.

A single flower is growing in a patch of weeds,
hoping maybe he could only please.

The meadow is quiet and lonely,
not a sound fills the air.
You can hear a silence, so loud you can't compare.