When I was in high school, I loved poetry.

I loved reading it. I loved writing it.The words seemed to flow from my pen every time I put the tip to paper. The world inspired me in ways I couldn't explain.By the end of the day, my notebooks would be filled with scribbled down thoughts that eventually became a collection of poems.Over the last few days, I started thinking about the poems I forgot about for over a decade. My cousin, whose mother was killed in a car accident earlier this year, began to use poetry as his way of dealing with the pain he felt for losing his mother.So today, I'm going to dust off my notebook and share a few of my poems, because my cousin made me realize that the words you write shouldn't be hidden in a notebook.FirefliesThere are fireflies dancing late at night,They watch over you and tell me that you are alright.I see them fly throughout the land,But yet I see none o'er the sand.I follow their glow and hope you are near,And then I realize you are not here.You're dancing in the world above,Being with the one you love.I wish I could see you but know I cannot,The only way is in my thought.You are standing here watching over the land,And then you take me by the hand.I hear your voice; I feel your touch,I know now that you mean so much.I see you in your radiant light,Finally, I know that you are alright.You gently unclasp my hand,A lone tear falls to the sand.There are fireflies dancing late at night,They watch and guide me to your light.(Fireflies was written in 2000, after friends from Montana visited Pennsylvania. They were amazed by the fireflies. The inspiration for this poem was a mix of that experience and missing my Pop Pop, who passed away in 1993, when I was 9.)The RoseA red rose tightly wovenApart from all the rest,Standing, staring up at heavenFor it fears it's not the best.The sun then beats upon it,And lets the process begin,And then the petals open,A baby wrapped within.The petals now turn into a faceThe stem to slender legs and feetThe leaves now turn into two arms,Wrapped in red and lace,That the baby will now meet.A figure of a woman is now shining throughA baby embraced within her arms,Now not one but two.The Blessed Virgin MaryNow standing there with her sonStanding, staring up at heavensAsking now what shall be done?(The Rose was inspired by my Nana, who always sang the song "Lovely Lady Dressed In Blue." I wrote this in the early 2000s and read it at my Nana's funeral in 2007 as a way to find closure.)JesThe Sun, rising in the eastTouches all it sees.The heart of it pure and goldFor she knows how to love.She is different from anything I have ever witnessed,Unique in every way.She sees things so clearlyAnd knows how to express herself.She does not fear others criticism,Nor gives any of her own.Friendly to allAnd shining from within for all to see.She helps others live their lives,Grow in every way,See all the possibilitiesAnd helps further their grasp onto life.The Sun, setting in the westFeels she has improved living,Helping things grow in every way, shape, and formAnd ready to start it all over again tomorrow.(Jes was written around 2004 as an assignment for a literature class. The inspiration came from my friend Jes, who was always someone I looked up to.)