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Tracey

Freelance Creative Writer & Poem Writer

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Location:Auckland, Auckland, New Zealand
Profile:https://www.freelanced.com/tracey
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Im a stay at home mum with a 17 month old daughter I've always had a passion for escaping from life in the written word. Heres a small piesce of a book I started writting as a hobby recently during my daughters naptimes. Enjoy! :)

Welcome to the world a beautiful baby girl. Arriving into what some would say a rathar unpleasant lifestyle, this child was born happy. Infact, she smiled at 2 days old. Im sure circumstances at that time never worried her she was happy she had love and thats all that seemed to matter was she had love. Love from all, they would all stop and stare to adore her as her lone mother pushed her in her push chair for miles around town to provide for them both. She always got plenty with a mother fighting constantly fighting for them. I guess thats what true love is, to lay down your life for another. Only a mother would know. Or some might even say Christ, but lets not get into that now, this is Kerri-Annes story...

Born into the world at 8:57am Monday morning 16th November, they all really did gather around to say she is beautiful. She went home to a welfare house where mothers fought the goverment to get their children back. Kerri-Anne stole many hearts at first sight she didnt have to look they did, and they all melted. A happy and contented baby, She only cried for a bottle of milk every 4 hours 4 or 5 times a day usually sleeping a full 12 hours throghout the night. She was happy to just play with the music going on tv as she got older she would tap her feet like a dance. That dance spread from her feet throughout her body. Everytime there was rythym the girl would move with the rythym. Singing and dancing, They made friends with the local buskers and she would show off her moves on the street with the buskers dancing smiling and singing, Little brown curly hair and green eyes that grip your soul with soft fair skin wearing a touch of a summers tan. The people that usually walked past the regular buskers would stop to watch her dance and sing. She knew they were watching but she would just smile as if she knew something they didnt and sway her tiny toddler body.
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Creative Writing
Poem Writing