poem with 5 . 7 . 5 syllables per line. Ridiculous. I woke up last night and heard the leaves blowing and thought of Mrs. Peterson. Okay, no laughing, here goes:
Aspens in the fall
Rustling secret whisperings
Like wings of angels
Okay, lame. But stuck in my head. R.I.P. Mrs. Peterson.
I had Mrs. Peterson in 5th grade! The only nice thing she ever did was give me a "pity hug" when she saw my hair on picture day. I have tried to destroy every 5th grade photo of me since.
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