|
A Poem About A Vine~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sometimes the things we don't notice are the sweetest things of all Clara ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There is a little vine growing up the wall it is so mysterious and no one knows its name or if it has one at all. ~O~ It has beautiful little flowers that smells just like perfume that opens in the morning and closes up again in the late afternoon ~O~ It stretches its tinny fingers and holds onto a splinter when summer turns to fall it sheds all its clothes and sleeps through the winter ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Clara Strickland Brinkley copyright©2005 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Vote for this poem
|
|
| |