I'm nine years old 

and what do you know? 

I got these feelings, 

how do I show? 

At the computer I sit

and out my fingers, poems flow.

One, then two, four, five, ten,

they came as fast as an arrow leaves a bow. 

My emotions I can only express in trope, 

through poetry I grow 

inward and out, upwards and down,

in all directions I plough. 

I have strived in this way so that

feelings are no longer in stow

but expressed, reveared and endeared.

I go.