I once fell in love with a playwrite and poet but because <br />I was a child I could not show it. This love of mine that was <br />so dear, who went by the name of William Shakespeare. <br />He lived in a half timbered house in Stratford-Upon-Avon. <br />A beautiful place, a countryside haven. His beautiful words <br />were hard to understand but I thought they were precious and <br />somewhat grand. My love for this man just grew and grew and <br />because of this I had friends that were few; until one day I was <br />given a prize and this opened up my mothers eyes. I said I had <br />chosen the book myself because it contained so much wealth. <br />A wealth of knowledge about Shakespeare's life and Anne <br />Hathaway his lovely wife. My Mother said that the book needed <br />so much understanding, as she placed it in the bookcase on the <br />upstairs landing. As for me I loved that book and when I get time <br />I still take a look. <br />The Bard of Avon as you were known, and my love for you has <br />grown and grown. I picture you above looking down on the land <br />writing your sonnets, with the quill pen in your hand.<br /><br />sylvia spencer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bard-4/
