What Made Me A Writer

My old maiden aunt
Kept pink peppermints
Inside her brown purse.
When I was five
I reached in and took some.
She would say later
That was when
 She definitely knew
I would have
An eating disorder.

My grade teacher drew
Confusing round words ,
On her chalk board.
Being six I didn’t realize
I needed glasses to see them.
She called me brainless,
And would always say
With great indignation,
That I would never excel
Except in my own imagination.

In High School my English teacher
Asked me to write,
On faded lined paper.
She knew I had stories waiting.
Imagination ignited my mind.
I wrote about the pain
And the way the others
Had totally demeaned me.
She gave me an A
And made me a writer.