Sometimes, when I write a poem
My mind begins to roam,
And the words I write tonight
Will make my life seem bright
I like being a poet.

Today, the outside is very cold,
And I am growing old.
Then I think why for so long
My brain keeps feeling so young
I like being a poet.

Now I think of the talent
That God gave to me.
Which started when I was seven
Not knowing what the future would be
I like being a poet.