Singing on the Inside

Her tiny voice has nothing to hide.

But she is like a sencha green tea bag that won’t brew in hot water.

The water remains clear and the tea bag just gets hotter.

But there is no leafy color to the water, yet still, she pours the water in the teacup anyway.

The essence of the drink has a song but not a say.

The tea is like my sister who sings on the inside.

No one knows what song she likes to sing, but a colorless chirp bubbles under the tide.

The broken, tiny voice still sings.

Through murky waters, still creeks, and winds passing through the butterfly wings.

The flower child kneels and sips her watery tea.

My sister is my friend and I am her and she is me.

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Last week, we made word pies out of magnetic words. We took a pie pan and played with the various magnetized words to make up sentences. One child made the sentence, “My sister sings on the inside.” I thought that was an interesting sentence and I decided to try and write a poem about it. The word pies turned out great.. Another child started his sentence, “In the wild garden, I pretend to….” Can you finish the sentence and write a story about it?

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