A writer’s beginning
Years Later
I was six years old when I got my first typewriter.
My mom gave it to me.
I remember the click, click, click of the letters.
It was an intoxicating sound.
I was eleven years old when I wrote my first story.
It was about a dog trying to rescue his friend,
a little girl.
My teacher kept the story.
It was around thirty-three pages long.
I was fifteen years old when I wrote poems.
They were originally for a class.
I loved it so much that I kept writing more.
I submitted some to a contest.
I was in college when I thought,
Maybe I should write.
But I thought writing was a silly dream,
so I studied science.
Thirty-one years later, I started my novel.
Three years later, it was done.
Thirty-four years later, that little girl’s dream
came true.
It is never too late to dream.