So Maggie wrote this poem last night using words from her spelling list. She turned 10 last July.

I cannot groan,

Or my voice will turn faint.

The ghost of my past,

Shows me visions of playing,

On the coast of Spain.

Charcoal,

My past is burnt.

Painting,

My past is a mixture of darkness and sorrow.

Flaming arrows fly through the air.

I remember bowling with my father,

Preparing a feast with my mother,

The appeal of praise

Running through the wheat field

Running so fast I could not hear anything,

Not even speech.

Now I crease the picture,

The only memory,

Of my past.

She’s going to surpass me in pretty much everything.

#writtenword #maggie