Swinging high on a breezy day,
Pretending to be a kite.
Riding scooters up and down the block.
In my face blows a gentle wind and
Noisy children
Gather Easter eggs.
- Ms. B's class 2005
This poem was written by my class as we experimented with acrostics. We were learning that a sentence does NOT need to be confined to one line.
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