This poem is from another fourth grade class...writing in the late afternoon as the soon-to-be winter sun angles in....
December is...
..building a snowman
..work slowing down
..coming to school seeing teachers wear big fluffy sweaters
..warm and cozy beds
..seeing Grandpa home for the Holidays
..watching Christmas shows
..sledding downhill and running into trees
..watching Mom and Dad kiss under the mistletoe
..bears hibernating in a warm, cozy cave
..white, gleaming crystals falling from the sky
..writing poems by the window
..hearing wrapping paper
..angels nestled up in a pasty white blanket of snow
..hearing horses rushing through the snow
..snowmen staring through the window
..going to my Great Grandfather's grave
..Thanksgiving sneaking away
..steam seeping off the hot chocolate
..kisses from Great Aunt Charlotte
..Grandmas making mittens
..watching snow fall
..eating snow puffs
..watching my cat slip on the ice
..making poems for Ms. Homan-Saylor
Friday, December 03, 2004
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Farewell, Mom.
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