Birds
By Megan Manchester
Homeschool and Spring Branch Academy

Birds come, birds go
They stay, they lay an egg or two
They hatch and they flew and flew
Then they’ll leave for a day or two
Then they mate and make more eggs
Until I find them on my bed
Or maybe on my head
Then I find they are on the trees
They hop, hop, hop and they don’t stop
Pulling out worms from the ground
I lounge around
I hum to the music
They say it’s like a toothpick
It’s sharp and not flat
It is like honey or sweets
I love the sound of it, whatever it is
A toothpick of honey or sweets

Amy Buck’s Chicken
by Miriam Harper-Brees
Homeschool

Amy Buck’s Chicken Cluck
Rode a horse to Bangorin Town
With Irate Bees
And Pesky Fleas
The End

The Sea
by Easton Osborne
Arnold Elementary

Schools of fish swimming around you.
Light reflecting from the sea to the sun.
Hearing water flowing left and right,
All day and all night
Before you can see all that, you have to jump
or dive
Feeling the water around you while hearing
swish, swish
Are you ready for this adventure?
I know I am!

Ballad of Thy Drums
by Maddy Valencia
Northwest Kidder Middle School

Crouched in the trenches
Of casualties of men
Preached the drums of a thousand arms
Ra pum Ra pum

Sweet syrup crimson
A remedy so arisen
Up up from under the daisies
He heard the trumpets sing

O’ familiar sound
So much like a one-man’s proud
Carronades’ his name
Ra pum Ra pum

Was once a sprawling ‘scape
Now an imbrued ruin
Once laid a man
Bearing all thine pride

“Thou shall not pass” and
“Thou shall not hear brass”
Thine ears weigh too much
Of the past of the war

Ra pum Ra pum
Thy drums no longer sung
Guilt washed with the tongue
The silk of the young

Trenches drenched with ichor
Lay thy ghosted sniper
He shall now carry the drums
For now, he is forever succumbed

I’m stuck in this room with no way to get out. I’m stuck in this room with fake moms and
fake doubts. I see kids leave with happy smiles, and I sit in the back corner with big frowns
and tears running down my eye. I wait long days and hours for someone to look in my eyes
and tell me how beautiful and intelligent I am. I wait and wait and wait, until…
My eyes are amazed with a sweet mom and dad grabbing my hand and taking me to a
loving house. I grow up strong and go right back to the same place and start someone
else’s life with me.

A mortician’s guide to burying your childhood.
By Alexis Hoover
Hanover-Horton High School

Let her die peacefully.
Don’t stuff her in the ground.
Take out each crayon IV individually,
Once more let her taste air of the summer playground

Dress her in her old outfit.
With those purple, sparkly jeans.
And pink top that suddenly doesn’t fit.
Maybe in that she’ll finally feel clean.

Put her in her old toy box,
With all her baby teeth.
If she wants she can wake and play with the blocks.
But she never will, she’ll forever stay asleep.

Don’t tell your Mother
Because she won’t understand.
She’ll say you’re not an adult but you were.
She just wants you to be a kid, and still hold your hand.

Choose a place in your old backyard,
Maybe next to where you used to play.
you can go back there and let down your guard,
But it won’t ever be the same.

Dig a hole using your favorite sandbox scoop,
Until your hands are blistered and bleeding.
Like when you tried so hard to tie your laces into loops.
So you could do the following and leading.

Invite your friends you used to play mermaids with,
Your tails were never plain.
You stopped talking may the 5th,
And you never talked again.

You realized you buried them too,
In this deep hole you dug.
Even though you stayed as they grew,
You try to forget them and shrug.

The dirt under your nails you’ll try to scrub away,
But all the scrubbing turns your childhood grey.
Accept that it’s grey and it always will be.
Try to move on to let these memories free.

Do not dig them back up no matter how loud they yell.
You’ll hear them across the country, but never prevail.
Do not listen, it hurts to bring them back.
Let them fade to white, to grey then to black.

The Forest
by Abigail French
Pioneers Homeschool Co-op

Wind rustling through the leaves,
Birds sing their wondrous songs,
Through the trees, the squirrels do weave,
Whimsical forest to all and none it belongs.

The running of deer,
The foraging of foxes,
The rabbits raise an ear,
Oh forest, where there live the animals and foxes.

In morn, the squirrels harvest there,
‘Possums sleeping in their dens,
At night the owls do stare,
The badgers going with their kin.

Oh forest, with such grace,
Oh forest, you are my favorite place.

The Comfort of Being Lost
By Silvia Baker
Western High School

I’d like to think
That lost doesn’t mean
Gone forever.

I’d like to think
Lost means
Leaving for a bit,

Exploring a new land,
Or sleeping for a long,
Long,

Time.
I’d like to think
Lost means

Goodbyes that say
See you later,
I love you.

I’d like to think
That lost
Will be like falling asleep in the car,

The voices of everyone who has ever been
Lost
Surrounding you.

I’d like to think
That lost doesn’t mean
Lost

At all.
I’d like to think that lost
Will be like waking up

And realizing that
Right here,
Right now,

You are utterly
And completely
Free,

Lost, in
The best
Way
Possible.

Forensic Psychology
By Aurora Birch
Hanover-Horton High School

Deep within the mind of a killer
Listen to every part of their story even the filler
What were they thinking at the start of the crime?
How do they feel now that they’re facing time?
Why did they do it? How did we get here?
Think about the victim knowing their time was here
Cleaning the mess
You think you know the rest
Driving to the house quieter than ever
Find the back door and pull on the lever
Asking the questions writing them down
How has this person been walking through town
Getting the answers telling the court
This time is getting short
Can they stand trial and face the judge
Or will they sit in this asylum and hold a grudge?

Spring’s Ballet
By Hanna Uphaus
Homeschool

Daffodil dancers, don yellow dresses
Softly aglow with golden caresses.
Now sway together and twirl in the breeze
With joyful bows to the leaves in the trees.
The whisper of wind a sweet melody plays
As you gracefully frolic in the sun’s rays.

Theater
By Stacia Manchester
Spring Branch Academy

Heart pounds. Quick Breathing
All your work leads up to this evening.

Blinding light. Knocking knees.
Confetti of duct tape under your feet.

Strangers surround you. Once they were friends.
But now they’re in costume. Old faces hidden.

Telling a story, you’re characters now.
Makeup and sweat adorn your stressed brow.

Telling a story takes more than one voice.
Seen and unseen, each part has a place.

Months of practice. Lines rehearsed.
Embody a thought. Give all you’re worth.

No longer an average American teenager,
You’re someone different. Someone bolder and braver.

You’re an actor with a story to tell.
A person with confidence. Live it out well.

Not just in the glamour and glitter and fame,
But in the ordinary, dull, and mundane.

Alien
By Alex Doolittle
Jackson Preparatory and Early College

Laughing.
“laughing with me, not at me,”

That’s what my mother says
Because I always think they’re laughing at me

With their pretty blonde hair
And round, well painted faces contorted in ugly frog smiles

I am an alien to these people
Thus, every step that I take is laughable in my spacesuit to protect against Earth’s air

When I make it back to the mothership, I will report back to my comrades on my home
planet

As I sit down, once again, in different seats, different orientations I see the same laughing

Once again, as my green, three toed feet hit the ground, Protected by heavy boots, I hear again that wretched noise

The call of great, ugly apes from puke green foliage

When I get back to the mothership, I shed my space suit
My protective skin and look in the mirror

I see my pale, ten toed feet
And a human face looking back at me

And I see my spacesuit, which was never that,
But rather the regular trappings of a human boy

My Scary Monster
By Camille Christou
Queen of the Miraculous Medal

Dear Monster,
Why are you under my bed?
When you are under, there is thunder!
I just wanted to say, “What’s your name?”
I would like to play a game.

How about checkers?
No, Monopoly, No.
How about Monster Chase?
Since you’re a monster…
That was fun, Monster.

Let’s go to sleep.

Sincerely, Me.

The Sand and the Sea
By Conor Heaviland
Pleasant Pines Homeschool

I am the sand in the ocean sea
You are the water that is up above me

We make the ocean together
Nobody will separate us, forever

Someday, Maybe
By Colette Miller
Columbia Upper Elementary

I wish people weren’t rude.
I wish people weren’t racist.
I wish people weren’t sexist.
I wish people weren’t homophobic.
I wish people weren’t transphobic.
I wish people weren’t weird towards children.
1 wish people weren’t weird towards animals.
I wish people weren’t judgmental.
I wish people weren’t manipulative.
I wish people weren’t selfish.
I wish people were better.
I wish the world was a safer place.
Someday, maybe my wishes will become reality.
Someday, maybe.

Campground
By Hunter Shimkus
Jackson Christian

The sound of a campground is

Buzz,
Boom,

Splash
Clink, Clink,

Whoo hoo

Crackle,

Swoosh

and Zzz!

Love
By Kaijsa Meeks
Northwest Kidder Middle School

You drew memories in my mind.
I could never erase.
You painted colors in my heart I could never replace.
I always gazed at your pretty face.
But now that you are gone I don’t know if.
I could replace.
I’m like a little flea.
Attached to you like it was meant to be.
But it was just a dream.
Us kids we don’t know anything about love.
We are shoved.
Like lost dogs on the street.
Like a deer in headlights.
Ready to flee,
Our hearts are like bees in autumn?
They perish once a certain time comes.
Were like drums getting played and played.
Then once were broken we are not fun anymore.
Like food in a trash can cats ready to prance
Eating it then leaving it
We are somewhat like an unsolved crime
After a while, no one wants to finish the mystery and leave it in a dark box.
Like a mop dipped in water and swished to the floor The fun is the water
and the floor is the blam.
Were animals that made a mess
Thrown out and replaced with the best
Like birds on a wire struck
All the life sucked out of them
So dont be a kid
And dont hold a grid
Let yourself live
Shrug your shoulders
And dont be a folder
Holding everything together just to fall apart.

Ladybugs
By Elisabeth Dodds
Homeschool

Ladybugs are on my bed,
Ladybugs are on my head,
Ladybugs are in my hair,
Ladybugs are everywhere.

Ladybugs are on my floor,
Ladybugs are on my door,
Ladybugs are on my mirror,
Ladybugs are here and there.

Ladybugs on my book,
Ladybugs in my nook,
Ladybugs when it is light out,
Ladybugs when it is night out.

Ladybugs on my sock,
Ladybugs on my crocs,
Ladybugs on my desk,
Ladybugs are the biggest pest!

My Masterpiece
By Ford Miller
Queen of the Miraculous Medal

Quiet house after a busy day.
I pick up my brush and start to play.
Swish, swirl, swish, swirl.
I dip my brush, rinse and clean
Thinking of my perfect scene
Swish, swirl, swish, swirl.
Grab a new color. What should I choose?
Red, yellow, green, or blue?
Swish, swirl, swish, swirl.
Back and forth, up and down.
Starting to see a little town.
Swish, swirl, swish, swirl.
Old buildings, restaurants, and small shops
Green parks, trees, and hilltops
Swish, swirl, swish, swirl.
Get out of my chair. Take a step back.
I sign my name with pen in black.
Now that’s my masterpiece.

The Little Snowflake
By Emma Uphaus
Homeschool

Little snowflake
blown
around
around
around

Twirling and swirling
falling
down
down
down

Landing softly
on the
ground
ground
ground

In the warmth of morning
nowhere to be
found
found
found

The Burden of Change
By Natalie Bolton-Eason
Northwest Kidder Middle School

As quick as night falls over you,
the sudden burdening shift of life weighs on your shoulders.
One that nothing could prepare a person for.

The emptiness that gnaws painfully at your chest while you wonder,
was there something you could’ve done?
But deep down, you know there was no way to prevent it.
Even so, your heart persists with a deep ache.

To lose someone who guided you through your childhood,
it almost feels as though you’ve lost a piece of yourself.
And now you wish you said so much more before they left.
You’re trapped within the guilt of unspoken apologies.

The world around you becomes muddied and dark.
Your mind is constantly running, worrying, panicking.
You’re hyper aware of loss, and now can only fear it will happen again.

You begin to overthink every detail about everything,
leaving you in a constant state of distress.
At such a young age your mind is in ruins.
You’ve become more quiet, more exhausted.
You don’t feel yourself anymore.

You won’t.
For a long time you will continue to feel lost.
But as years go by, you’ll come to terms with all that happened.
You will come to realize you were only a kid,
there wasn’t anything you could’ve done.

Though you will never be the same person you were,
you will forgive yourself of that lingering guilt.

You will heal.

The Burden of Change
By Natalie Bolton-Eason
Northwest Kidder Middle School

As quick as night falls over you,
the sudden burdening shift of life weighs on your shoulders.
One that nothing could prepare a person for.

The emptiness that gnaws painfully at your chest while you wonder,
was there something you could’ve done?
But deep down, you know there was no way to prevent it.
Even so, your heart persists with a deep ache.

To lose someone who guided you through your childhood,
it almost feels as though you’ve lost a piece of yourself.
And now you wish you said so much more before they left.
You’re trapped within the guilt of unspoken apologies.

The world around you becomes muddied and dark.
Your mind is constantly running, worrying, panicking.
You’re hyper aware of loss, and now can only fear it will happen again.

You begin to overthink every detail about everything,
leaving you in a constant state of distress.
At such a young age your mind is in ruins.
You’ve become more quiet, more exhausted.
You don’t feel yourself anymore.

You won’t.
For a long time you will continue to feel lost.
But as years go by, you’ll come to terms with all that happened.
You will come to realize you were only a kid,
there wasn’t anything you could’ve done.

Though you will never be the same person you were,
you will forgive yourself of that lingering guilt.

You will heal.

The Animals are Here
By Elle Baumgardner
Warner Elementary

The kitty is here

The kitty is there

The kitty is scratching

Up the chair

The bird is swinging

The bird is jumping

The bird is flying

On top of the snowman

The frog hopped

The frog sang
The frog is watching
The game
The deer walked
The deer ate
The deer is now
In a roller skate

I am from
By Ash Pardiac
Grass Lake Middle School
I am from the old dolls scattered throughout the house.
From paper and half-dried markers.
I am from the tall white house tucked away from the world
with thin old windows that look like a face.
I am from the large garden and the old decaying tree whose
long crumbling limbs I remember as if they were my own.
I’m from the loud yet comforting chaos and shared moments.
From my mother and stepfather.
I’m from blasting music, playing games, and creating art
scattered around the house
I’m from “Don’t fight with stupid”, “Is the juice worth the
squeeze?” and “Let it roll off your back like a duck.”
I am from early Christmas
I’m from Ann Arbor, California, Arizona, and stir fry.
From my brother going to the hospital.
To the old Polaroid photos of the Golden Gate Bridge and the
paintings my siblings made on the wall, memories of joyful
family moments.
I was never from a place but the memories, drifting through
the world like a leaf in the wind, never staying in one spot.

Lifeline
By Chase “Asher” Ward
Jackson Preparatory and Early College

I cling to a Lifeline.
Every day, I’m alive.
Every day, I survive.
Every day, I am me.
Though if I cannot seem
To feel alive or dead
When I feel a sense of dread,
The Lifeline sets me free.
The Lifeline grants me peace
It’s the only thing that has cared.
She turns around, and finally declared
She’d join me up above.
The Lifeline cares for me.
I care for the Lifeline.
We finally found the time,
To share our feelings of love.
So I’ve finally found,
Care and solace…
And then a promise…
Rooted in time, our love will remain.
Lesser than She thought,
Earned my trust without trying.
Though, terrified without crying,
Time will show my only disdain:
The Lifeline would break.
Pieces scattered throughout
My happiness was a drought
Shattering the sunset upon us.
I’ve tried to help
In any way I can.
Though, I’m only a man
Trying to fix a goddess.
I was out of tries
To prove my worth
So still become my earth,
As I began to rot away.
When the Lifeline was fixed,
I snapped out of the past
Reunited, at last.
She snapped me out of disarray.
After the wounds healed.
We returned to normal
And though I’m only mortal
She still loved me the same…

The Hunter and the Fox
By Ava Manchester
Homeschool and Spring Branch Academy

The Hunter set off to catch the fox
whose meat and pelt he needed;
But quietly he went, for he knew
the fox could hear better than he did.
The fox, who was sly, from the edge of his eye,
saw the Hunter coming;
But with a growl and one swift blow,
he set the horse off running.
The Hunter and rider proceeded to bridle
the horse, as they came to a clearing;
The Hunter stopped, stood still and listened
to a sound he couldn’t help but hearing.
He went toward the sound, and soon he found
a vixen, with fur of bright red,
With no thought of healing,
immune to her squealing,
he grabbed the bow behind his head.
For a hunter was he, and so it would be
his first instinct was to kill,
but then he stood shocked, as a memory locked,
he dropped his bow and stood still.
The memory was sad, but not fully bad,
of a girl, his sweet little child,
he’d loved her dearly, twas three years ago nearly,
when she’d died, his greatest trial.
She’d been a kind little girl; head topped with curls,
and with big bright eyes of blue,
she’d asked one day, “Daddy, how would you feel
if the animals hunted you?”
This showed her affection, love, and protection
for animals, one and all,
and out of the blue, he knew what to do,
love the creatures, as she did, big and small.
He snapped back to the present, his intentions now pleasant,
he picked up the fox, oh so gently;
he put her on the horse, to help her, of course,
and rode back home quite swiftly.
And so they were friends, they made amends,
their days full of joy and laughter,
and so, in a way, I suppose you could say,
they lived happily ever after.

Seasons’ Breath
By Clara Uphaus
Homeschool

A freezing blast of ice and snow
Startles a white world cold and chilly.
I brace against her mighty blow
Watching crystals that fly through the air.

A warm fresh breeze tosses my hair
Against a soft bed of grass,
While swarms of mosquitoes at me stare
Under the sun’s golden glare.

A dry gust of sweet and gentle air
Tickles my bare sunburnt legs.
She blows dark clouds and weather fair
Each tempest making trees twirl.

A playful, friendly, wispy whirl
Brings a tornado of red and orange.
She asks me to dance with every swirl
Never still; never stopping her show—

Through the Weight of Silence
By Riley Chevalier
Homeschool

Some days, I wake up and the world feels too loud,
Like I’m trapped in a crowd, yet lost in a cloud
My mind is heavy, like a storm in my head,
I rise up in tears, wishing I stayed in bed.

I feel so small, like I don’t fit in,
Like nobody notices the pain within.
I try to smile, I try to pretend,
but everything feels like it’s starting to bend.

I wish I could laugh, I wish I could sing,
But it’s hard when the dark starts to sting.
The days are long, and the nights even worse,
Like I’m trapped in a story that’s written in verse.

But then there’s him, my cat, my friend,
A quiet comfort that helps me to mend.
When the world moves too fast, and I can’t catch my breath,
He’s there with me, through the weight of the stress.

My family, they notice when the light fades away,
They offer soft smiles and words they don’t say.
They don’t always speak, they don’t always try,
But I feel their support, just knowing they’re nearby.

Grandma notices the quiet in my eyes,
She asks if I’m okay, but I just tell her lies.
I wish I could tell her what I can’t explain,
That this weight on my chest feels like endless pain.

Grandpa doesn’t say much, but i feel his gaze,
His steady silence helps in strange ways.
He doesn’t push me, just lets me be,
But I wonder if he can see the parts of me that I can’t set free.

Love surrounds me tight,
Even when the world feels too dark to fight.
I may not have all the answers today,
But with them beside me, I’ll find my way

So when I’m feeling lost, or feeling alone,
I know I have love to guide me home.
My cat, my family, my grandparents too,
They remind me I’m never, ever through.

Layla, My Dog
By Emma Dailey
Bean Elementary

We got Layla when she was a puppy, just one.
She definitely looked like the shine of the sun.

Her blue squeaky ball is her favorite toy.
Whenever we throw it, she runs off with joy.

She chews on her bone, she tugs on her rope.
Saving her from the shelter gave her hope.

She spins in circles and chases her tail.
She runs and she spins like a fast moving sail.

She lays on her bed and chews on her toy.
I’d like to sail with her. Ahoy!

Layla, my doggie, is my very best friend.
Together forever until the end.

I Am
By Rylee Hoffman
Jackson Christian

I am a sloth slow and chill

I am a piano playing with lots of others

I am a leaf hanging around my family tree

I am me, praying and tender hearted

Walk or Wander?
By Titus Eisenmann
Jackson Preparatory and Early College

Seven days a week
24 hours a day
All to find something we all seek
Some people know
Others don’t
Some walk with purpose
Other wander
What about you?
What do you do?
Do you walk or wander?
What do you do with all of your days
Do you even know?
Or do you walk in a haze?
If you don’t know I don’t blame you
It can be hard
But me?
I know what I’m doing
I’m going to the most important place of my life
Refrigerator

Welcome Morning…
By Eva Fisher
Napoleon High School

Welcome Morning…

There is joy In
all:
Where sweet coffee brews in the morning
Filling a home with warmth

Where moss covers an overgrown backyard
A stumbling infant fawn
Trots confidently towards her mother

Where hens lay eggs
Clucking to one another proudly
At their creation of life

Where Angel’s Trumpets drape down pergolas
Pendulous flowers on bristly shrubs
Exposing their beauty only at night

Where bees build colonies in creases and crevices
Swarms of pollinators
Smothering the world in life

Where a spider twines intricate webs
Contorting dances on eight legs
Announcing their mating ritual

Where blue butterflies bloom
From their sheathed brown cocoons
Transforming into winged new life

There is joy In
all:
All the small things that aren’t so small
Connecting all life

Who am I?
By Delaney Lorenzen
Northwest Kidder Middle School

Who am I?
Questions swirling around in my mind.
Am I a secret agent?
Spying? Sneaking? Seeing?
Or am I a mysterious alien?
Zapping kids with UFO lasers,
Am I rude?
I’ve heard that plenty of times,
Am I dumb?
It takes me 5 minutes to pronounce just one word,
Am I ugly?
Not even the mirror could make eye contact with me.
Who am I? The curiousness floats
away, And I now know who I am.
Confident as can be!
I realize that I can!
I can be an agent,
Wearing a secret disguise
I can even be an alien,
With a blaster too
I can be nice, smart, and pretty,
I just have to believe
I can answer questions like,
Who am I?

Anger
By Stella Rizzo
Lumen Christi Catholic School

Anger is a flat soda that I tried to drink to satisfy me but it didn’t the way a regular soda
does.
Anger is a piece of black licorice that I want to spit out but can’t because I’ve already
swallowed it.
Anger is a blockade of small, jagged rocks you have to get through in order to get to
the salty, ocean water.
Anger is a loud drumline coming closer and closer until it feels like they’re on top of you.
Anger is a fire that keeps growing until all of a sudden it’s put out, but it’s too late, it’s
already caused its damage.
Anger lives in a black hole where there is no such thing as kindness.

All the Things You’re Not
By Jackson Ziebell
Grass Lake High School

You’re not your age, Nor the color of your hair
You’re not your weight, Nor the amount you swear
You´re not the price of your shoes, Or the color of your skin
You´re not the brand of your car, Or the shape of your chin
You’re not the money you make, Or the dimples on your cheeks
You´re all the jokes that you tell, And all the words you speak
You´re that croaky morning voice, And the smiles you try to hide,
You´re every last teardrop, You wish you hadn´t cried
You´re mamma´s precious baby, The songs you scream when alone
You’re the things you believe in, You´re the place you call home
You´re the early morning prayers And your relationship with God
You´re that late-night belly laugh, And yes, you´re odd
You´re the chances you take, And the chances you won´t
You´re the love that you share, And the hate that you don’t
As we grow up, It often seems
We care about the silliest and stupidest things
So just be you, Because it seems you’ve forgot
You´re often defined By all the things you’re not

Inspired by Not by Erin Hanson

Moon Jellies
By Bristal Bell
Grass Lake Middle School

I peer into the depths,
spotting your swaying arms in dark blue waters,
a delicate, translucent body poised in the flow.
I scrutinize the glowing creatures,
the thick glass a barrier between us,
small bubbles rising like carbonation in a soda can.

I listen to the chatter of voices,
the slosh of water from touch pools,
but also to the echo of silent light waves,
and the hum of marine life that surrounds.
Yet, all I long to see is the jellyfish,
gliding gently in the deep,
casting a soft blue glow beneath the waves,
entrancing with movements full of grace.

Spring
By Eldon Bush
Homeschool

In the springtime,
the flowers bloom.
The bees come to get their nectar.

In the springtime,
the trees have buds.
Flowers bloom and you pick them for your mom.

In the springtime,
my birthday comes
and many friends come over.
The end.

The ABC’s Of The School
By Zoe Neville
Columbia Upper Elementary

Apples Arriving On The Teachers Desk
Big Books In Bins In The Library
Clocks on the Clean Classroom Walls
Desks In Diagonal Lines
Erasers On Every Pencil
Friendly Faces All Around
Great Growing Minds All The Time
Hallways Filled With Happy Kids
Inspiring lndividuals In Every Classroom
Jumping Jacks Done In Gym Class
Kids Kicking Kickball Outside
Lockers Line The Long Hallways
Math,Math So Much Math All We Do Is Math
Note Taking In Nice New Notebooks
Open Our Minds To Opportunities
Pencils In The Pencil Sharpener
Quiet Always Quiet During Quizzes
Reading, Writing, And Recess Are My Favorite Things
Spirit Days Supporting Sports Teams
Teachers Taking The Time To Listen
Understanding Our Unique Ways
Vocabulary, Verbs, And Vowels
Win Is What We Do Working Together
X-tra Recess Is Exciting
Youth Sports For Young Students
Zippers Being Zipped To Go Home

Stories in Her Hands
By Bailey King
Hanover-Horton High School

In the aisles where stories dwell,
A woman weaves her magic well.
With gentle hands, she sorts the spines,
Each book a world where wisdom shines.

She greets the patrons with a smile,
Sharing tales that linger awhile.
From classics rich to new releases,
Her love for words never ceases.

She knows each nook, each cozy chair,
The whispers of dreams float in the air.
Amidst the shelves, she finds her place,
A heaven wrapped in soft embrace.

In quiet moments, she reads and sighs,
As pages turn, her spirit flies.
For in this realm of boundless lore,
She finds her heart forevermore.