My Diary Poem

My poem is no ordenary poem. It doesn't ryme. It about what I was doing that moment.

My Diary Poem

As I sit here, at my kitchen table, writing this poem, I can here the birds chirping through the window.
I see the wind blowing the trees.
I can see the swings aswingin`.
I see the bird feeders my grandpa made aswayin` too.
I can remember his smile and laugh.
Oh, wait I'm getting off track.
I sit here hearing my dad watching the ESPN channel.
I sit here thinking of what I wish would happen next.
But wait, a bus goes by.
I just had to say that!!
I see a bug flying in our patio door window.
My dog, Molly, laying there as the crazy lazy dog she is!!!!
As I also sit here I'm thinking of the person reading this poem.