A Country Girl's Writing

Thousands of words A picture holds, In invisible ink Waiting for you to decode. A picture captures Long forgotten memories And tells, of us, As little children. A picture will Occupy our minds With wonderful amazement And endless possibilities. A picture can take you To a whole new world, Or travel back in time On an emotional rollercoaster. A thousand words A picture holds Written in invisible ink For you to decipher. By Evelyn Creon

Home is a place Where the people we love dwell. Home is a place Where we learn to understand Good and bad. Home is a place Where we laugh and play. Home is a place Where we cry and morn. Home is a place Where we love and hate The people we call family. Home is a place Where children grow, Grandparents are teachers, And where parents forgive. Home is a place That we crave once it's lost. By Evelyn Creon

       One sunny Saturday afternoon when the sun glistened on the freshly fallen snow. tailgate my friends and I decided to take a stroll through the quiet woods behind my house.      They snow crunched under our feet as we ambled along talking and enjoying the beauty that lay around us. Every once in a while tree would let a load of snow off one of two of it's branches, and It would fall like pillows into the snow bellow.         Suddenly, we came to multiple down trees and what looked like a blackberry patch covered by snow. To continue on with our stroll we had to some how make our way of this new obstacle. My friends started to cross with little difficulty and by the end had wet pants.     Being very familiar with these types of cumbersome blockages I hand no problem getting across. When I was on the last branch I decided that I would make a stupid statement, and so, I proudly announced, "I made it!"...

A composition of perfection Was painted on a canvas. A majestic view Of water, trees and mountains. The colors blended pleasently Catching to the eye. Telling the story of spring, With bright ideals Of an inspiring scene. By Evelyn Creon 

In repetition, the water  It beats against the rocks  Than it crashes beneath  it's surface with incredible force.  By Evelyn Creon