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Our daddy has bought us the strangest of trees -
But now this is my secret.  Don’t tell others please.
     Instead of green leaves on its branches you’ll see
     That its letters tell us it’s an alphabet tree.

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When autumn winds blow, letters whirl in the breeze
And I’ve written good poems with the help of these trees.  
     Sonnets drift to the earth; ballads blow in the air
     And those haikus take shape with the minimum care.

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Rhyming stories soon form as the letters swirl round
And, with help from my broom, they are swept from the ground.
     When the poems take shape, tell me what do I do?
     Well, I’m sure that you know, for I share them with you. 

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Copyright on all my poems

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