My mommy is a writer.
She has stories in her head.
I hear her typing late at night
when I am in my bed.
I like to read the things she writes,
well, the kids’ stuff anyway.
The other stuff’s too old for me,
but I can read that, too, someday.
She calls me her inspiration
for the poetry she writes.
I guess that means I’m pretty smart
for someone just my size.
Boy, grownups sure are funny.
I don’t understand, sometimes.
I like to make up stories, too...
but they call them little white lies.
C.J. Heck
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/makin-up-stuff-children/
