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More poems about Ann
MY WISHING STONE
When on the beach when I was young
playing on the sand,
Building sandcastles and digging, a small
stone slid into my hand,
It was the colour of amber bright and as
smooth as it could be,
I believed that a wishing stone had
been given to me.
I took it down to the sea to wash the
sand and dirt away,
I placed it in my pocket to wish upon on
some cold wet day.
At home I placed it in my treasure box with
my other important things,
Like my dolls blue eye, a pretend pearl a feather
from a birds wing,
When I was sad and lonely I would take out
my small wishing stone,
Then curl up in bed and pretend I was not
there all alone,
I’d wish to visit places and wish for my
own great big family,
I would close my eyes and dream and be
as happy as could be.
Mother found my wishing stone as
said it was only glass,
I went to my room and cried thinking the
hurt would not pass,
I did not throw it away but hid it right
out of sight,
Still held it when I needed to wish
with all my might.
An art project at school to make a stained
glass window pane,
Coloured glass was needed for me the high
marks to try and gain,
So I took my wishing star to use hoping it
was not too small,
And wondered if it would work out for me
right at all.
I used it as a flower centre with leaves of
old bottle green,
The rest plain glass to increase the simple
beauty that was seen.
At the school fair my window fetched by far
the highest price,
And all that my mother said to me was, well
that was quite nice.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson 5 September 2004