Poem #145

Here are two by Grace...

        Rocks


  Rocks   fall   down
  With  color   crashing
  Sun   shine   rises   upon   the   mountain
  Of   rocks   falling   rolling
  Put   together   to   look   big.   Small   rocks,
  And   big   rocks   go   together   to   make
  Things.   And   butterflies   glow.
  And   the   moon   rises
  By   the   midnight   sky
  Glowing.




   My   Pencil


  My   pencil   is
  Bright   red.   It's
  As   sharp   as   a
  Nail.   When   it's
  Dull   you   need
  To   sharpen   it.
  When   you   feel
  Like   it's   sharp
  Enough   you   pull
  It   out.

Thanks, Grace!

Have a good night, everyone!