And as arrogant as my username sounds, it's actually the name of my Jade Empire video game character.


Grandma's GardenOnce in your garden were children, Hungry and eager to know. You watered them with education, And gave them the sunlight to grow.Grandma's Garden
You haven't stopped tending your garden. You're just growing different things! Flowers of service and family, Love to make other hearts sing.


My Grandpa is a PilotMy Grandpa is a pilot With a shiny yellow plane, He flies us o'er the lava beds and all the fields of grain.My Grandpa is a Pilot
My Grandpa is a pilot! He knows each switch and dial. He keeps the wings so level As we soar over every mile.
My Grandpa is a pilot; He flies us near and far, And we go so very fast We beat each racing car.
My Grandpa is a pilot,
And when it's time to land, He puts us gently on the grass With a very steady hand.


My Grandpa is a PirateMy Grandpa is a pirate, With several loyal crew. He wears a beard and a real peg leg And a red bandanna too.My Grandpa is a Pirate
My Grandpa is a pirate. He's handy in a fight. And if his sword don't getcha, His frightening smile might.
My Grandpa is a pirate! He's fearsome, brave and bold. (I'm hiding in his kitchen now, searching for his gold.)
My Grandpa is a pirate, That sails the seven seas. At least that's what he tells me... He could just be a tease.


The Old MapleMany years ago on a New England sugaring farm, there was a beautiful young maple tree. It stood in a stand of maples in the oldest part of the acreage, but it was not like the other maples. It grew taller each year, but when tapped, gave off sickly black sap instead of the clean, sweet sap that its companion trees produced. The tree had lovely foliage in the fall, and eventually it produced two saplings, but no syrup could be made from its sap.The Old Maple
The Farmer was troubled by this tree and over time wondered if he should cut it down. Carefully he tended it with the other trees, hoping love and care would cure the disease a


Master of RavensMaster of RavensMaster of Ravens
1 My little brother is nine years old the first time I decide to kill him.
During the night, snow fell over the jagged wreckage of our land. In the morning I realize he will follow me outside if I call to him. Like an awkward-limbed colt he’ll stumble through the snowdrifts, and I can leave him to the ice and wind in the shadow of a three-walled building. No one will see me. Our father will think he has gotten lost on his own. I too will cry when they find his body. When the mourning is done, however, I will be my father's true and only son. ‘Cam,’ he will call to me, and I’
--
Some days I write those words, others they write me.
--
`DragonWinter | ~WinterSnaps
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