My Horsey
By Ari Zeiger
I'm riding on a horsey.
It has handles by the ears.
This horsey's made by Grandpa
and passed down through the years.
My horsey's two-feet tall,
which might seem sort of low.
But I'm also small, so I give my all
when I'm rocking to and fro.
Oh, my horsey's made of wood
so sometimes I believe
that I'm riding on a horsey
and we're swinging through the trees.
You too should ride a horsey.
There's nothing more you'll love.
Just wrap your arms around like this
and hold on with a hug.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Children's Poem
Bliss
By Ari Zeiger
Who am I?
What makes me me?
It all seems such a mystery.Who am I?
What makes me me?
Usually I just let this go.
I laugh out loud and say: I don't know.
But then sometimes, well, here's the thing.
I have this heart. And it likes to sing.
Yet once or twice the song gets lost.
And in its place, a million thoughts.
That's when I feel incomplete.
Like I'm no one you'd want to meet.
But soon enough, I'll feel OK.
Little by little, throughout the day.
And though my heart might still despair,
something trusts the music's there.
And then I'm free to dance again.
To follow bliss, to be my friend.
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