Everyone Is A Poet
“Grandpa, do you write poems?” Nancy asks the minute she gets home from school.
“Well, I tried once, long ago, when I was in Grade 4, back in the old country.”
“That makes you a poet. I like to have your poem.’
“I do remember it well, because it is the only one. It has only two lines: ‘I like to be a cloud, Freely I float around,’”
“That’s great!” Nancy applauds. “I like it, Grandpa. We have a very special visitor in class today, a poet from India whom Mr. Shaw knows by correspondence. He recited many poems in Bengali. They sounded just like music. They are beautiful even when we did not understand the words.”