When first I wrote the alphabet,
  perfection was not a high priority;
that first, class paper assignment,
  could use a little work.

Courage escaped me at every turn,
  when I searched endlessly for the words;
I wanted to share with you my heart,
  but found the frog in my throat too large.

More than miles, galaxies apart,
  from distant shores I sought for more;
yet words were nowhere to be found,
  as pen and paper remained anew.

One day organization came,
  poetic prose carried with them meaning;
compliments abound as words are read,
  poetry road maps led me to you.

Now you read what I wrote,
  words organized into tangible thought;
though awards and medallions escape me,
  peace and solace fuel me, to write again.
    © 2007 Randolph D. Brown, Jr.