The Little Man

The Little Man, oh how small.

How he waddles and talks,

Like a whistle so high a voice.

He is small, in a house as small as a mouse,

He is a lovely little fellow,

How joyus he is, with tiny rosy cheeks,

And easy to please.

He doesn't eat much,

Just crumbs for a meal.

The Little Man, oh how small.

Trees (the poem)

Trees

Summer breeze sways trees.

We are outside playing now.

Swaying in the wind.

Swaying in the wind are we.

Swaying in the wind with trees.

This is a poem that I wrote for school. a couple weeks ago I sent it to aunt Rebecca and asked her to show it to uncle Wilson. so i decided to show it to ya'll.

Another Poem. The Knowledge of Nothing.

In silence i wait, for what i do not know.
I understand naught, of why I do this, I just do.
I await and I hope for great joy and wisdom to come to me.
yet, I do not know why I am sitting here, awaiting something I know nothing about.
Wait, here it comes! but not to be, just dissapointment for me.

The Cent (a poem)

The cent, so insignificant.
yet so proud, showing the great Abe Lincoln.
has changed many times, and was mighty apon one time.
The cent, the cent oh so small, showing is weats, its memorials, shields and wreaths.
the great lincoln on the front, the indian and the eagle.
The cent oh so insignificant.
(PS can aunt Rebecca read this to uncle wilson?)