Dream of a Past

This is a poem that I wrote in English class last year. It is about my Grandmother that I never got to know.

You ask me, what did I dream?

I dreamt that I became a time machine.

I wanted to go back into the past.

Go back and visit a woman I know,

Someone I loved.

It was my grandmother that I love.

What was she like?

I can’t remember.

She left the world when I was young.

She had to leave me

Because it was her time to go.

She went to a place called Heaven.

I miss her and I’m sad.

I’m sad because all my friends have a grandmother.

You ask me, why does this matter?

Because she had to leave me and went away.

I want to go back through time to meet her.

My Favourite Place

I love the moment when I step inside and I suddenly feel safe and calm as my family surround me, comforting me in any way they can no matter how bad of a day I’ve had. And the feeling of truly belonging.

I love the cold, winter day when I sink into the couch, a warm blank wrapped around me, the flames of the fire bringing warmth to the house while your mouth waters at the smell of the hot chocolate that being tightly held by my two hands. And the voices on the TV bring me laughter.

I love gazing outside the window observing the sheep grazing on the luscious grass, the birds chirping, with the sun’s rays beaming down all the while I’m relaxing on my bed in the comfort of my home. And the sound of baaing sheep in the paddock.

I love the peaceful and relaxing feeling that runs through my body as I lay on the comfortable, soft bed sitting in the centre of my room as the most important piece of furniture in my room. And the moment my eyes shut as I fall asleep.

I love the way how every stain, where the furniture belongs, every creak in the floorboards, all marks on the walls, have all been inserted into my memory. And the way I’m able to find my way around without thinking.

My home is my favourite place