February 26, 1996

I found this poem that I wrote in 6th grade while I was in Seattle this Christmas. I've added one line at the end of the second stanza in order to keep the rhythm the same throughout, but other than that this is what I wrote when I was 12.

Rose is Going Romping
Rose is going romping
through the thorough field of daisies.
Her feet are a flight with feathers just right,
and the daisies are as yellow as the sun.

Rose is going romping
to the West end of the field.
The town lays there, with two small shops,
and her feet are a flight with feathers just right
(and the daisies are as yellow as the sun.)

Rose was going romping, and reaching the small town:
she bought two eggs and an elephant ear,
but her feet were a flight with feathers just right
and so she went home with a tear.